


Bucky Barnes' Accidental Therapy Group for Teenagers

by fouryearslater (CheshireCatLife)



Series: Bucky's Team Is Better Than The Avengers [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: (it's literally like a line but still), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Anxiety, Bullying, Crack Treated Seriously, Developing Friendships, Established Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Found Family, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mild Gore, POV Multiple, Peter Parker's Field Trip to Stark Industries, Soft Bucky Barnes, Teacher Bucky Barnes, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, Therapy, Uncle Bucky Barnes, Uncle Steve Rogers, Underage Drinking, a healthy dose of happiness, bucky barnes is soft, except not really, except really not, has no regard for the timeline of the films, so much so that you can't even really find canon anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 66,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24232159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshireCatLife/pseuds/fouryearslater
Summary: Bucky Barnes didn't mean to stick up for Peter Parker, it just happened. And he certainly didn'tmeanto gain a gaggle of teenagers, but well...Here we are.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Wanda Maximoff, James "Bucky" Barnes & Michelle Jones, James "Bucky" Barnes & Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes & Wanda Maximoff, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Michelle Jones & Steve Rogers, Michelle Jones & Wanda Maximoff, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff & Peter Parker, Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Series: Bucky's Team Is Better Than The Avengers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882594
Comments: 306
Kudos: 1068





	1. Peter

**Author's Note:**

> In terms of timeline, I basically made my own. After Winter Soldier, Bucky went on the run but was quickly found. This is set in 2015, so he's had time to recover and adjust, although maybe not fully. Peter's story is basically starting from scratch; Tony has been helping him with the Spiderman stuff but none of Homecoming happened. If you have any questions, feel free to ask and I'll clarify (and adjust the story to make it a bit clearer).
> 
> Btw, I think I made Peter (and his friends) a year older than they are but I felt like I needed to for the sake of the plot.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, hope you enjoy!  
> And if you have time, comments are the fuel that runs this and I appreciate all and any (even criticism, though I definitely prefer it if it's constructive XD)

Bucky Barnes, on a day to day basis, liked to keep to himself. That didn’t mean he was a loner, or that he never ventured outside his apartment. He wasn’t, really. He was just rather introverted after the 70-or-so years of torture. He was allowed that. Steve certainly thought so, but Steve also thought he deserved everything. He didn’t, but he’d let Steve think so, if only because arguing with him would be a lot more effort than it was worth.

So, when he made his way to Avenger’s Tower and up to the 95th floor, a Starbucks mocha in hand, it really shouldn’t have drawn so much attention. Really, it was like the world had stopped at his mere presence. At least half the room was gaping and no one seemed to dare move a muscle until Steve - of course - came over to greet him. “Hey, Buck,” he said, almost cautiously. Curious, Bucky thought, seeing as they lived with each other. “Didn’t think you were coming over today.” Or ever, he didn’t add, but Bucky knew Steve well enough to know exactly what he meant.

“I was bored,” he said with a shrug, trying to keep the conversation going in hopes that someone else would inevitably take over and allow him to blend back into the background. He came around today to have some company, not to be the centre of attention. Honestly, he was about five seconds from turning back around and going home. He had a good book waiting for him; he didn’t _need_ to be here. It had been more of a spur of the moment thing. Probably some mix of guilt over not seeing Steve’s friends often enough and the knowledge that he may have been acting like a bit of a recluse recently.

He’d been out and about (with a plethora of limitations) in the free world for almost a year now, he didn’t really have an excuse. (Well, he did, as Steve kept reiterating, but it didn’t feel like it.)

“You want to join us?” Bucky gave Steve a look that just said _why else would I be here?_ and let Steve lead him over to the main area. Most of the Avengers were there: Natasha, Clint, Tony and Bruce. Thor, presumably, was in Asgard. There were a few additions too: Pepper Potts, a woman he’d never seen before and a child that was glancing frantically between him and Steve. Their arrangement, he now realised, was very deliberate, with the two strangers sat on one sofa opposite the hoard of superheroes on the other. Pepper, as diplomatic as ever, had taken to standing between them, just off to the side.

Bucky stood opposite Pepper, Steve at his six, and took a large sip of his drink. That, somehow, seemed enough to knock them out of their stupor and finally, a few people seemed to recover from the sight of Bucky Barnes in the Avenger’s common room and went back to the matter at hand. “Peter, you gotta be sensible about this,” said Natasha. Her eyes were calm but something in them spoke volumes that Bucky couldn’t quite decipher yet.

“I am!” The kid opposite argued, the woman’s arm firmly on his back. A show of support; clearly, something was wrong. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t capable of doing it.”

“Just because you’re able to doesn’t mean you should,” Tony sighed. He looked tired, his hand wiping tiredly over his face like this was the fifth time he’d had to reiterate this. It probably was.

Finally, Bucky gave in to his curiosity and turned to Steve and asked, “what’s going on?”

“That kid’s Spiderman. Tony was supporting him, thinking he was about eighteen. JARVIS found out yesterday he was fifteen. Tony went berserk, brought Peter in, found out who his family was.” Steve motioned to the woman. “That’s his Aunt May. She’s being supportive of him but I don’t think she wants this either. He lost his Uncle recently; she lost her husband. It’s a lot.” Bucky nodded calmly and reassessed the situation.

They were still arguing, loudly.

“I have the duty to do this! I have these abilities and I can’t just…” Peter fumbled for words, his hands doing some wild gesticulation that could have meant anything. “I have to do this, Mr Stark. It’s no different than it was before, now you just know a little more.”

“You are _fifteen_ -,”

“I’ll be sixteen in a month!”

“You think that makes a difference?”

“A lot more things will be legal for me in a month.”

“You really think being allowed to legally have sex means you should risk your life trying to take down criminals?”

“That’s not what I-!” Peter blushed profusely, shaking his hair over his face to try and hide it but it was short and ineffectual, even with his eyes staring steadfastly at the floor.

“Look, kid. I can’t stop you but I’m just putting it forward that I can’t support you anymore. No new suits unless they help your defence. No training unless its defence training. You’re in school, kid, make the most of it.”

“Fine, I can do this myself.” In that moment, Bucky couldn’t help the snort. Because, really, that was a Steve line through and through; so stupidly defiant that Bucky couldn’t help the pervasive noise that left his mouth. Yet again, the whole room seemed to turn to him. Purposefully, he flattened his expression. “What?”

“Okaaay,” Tony said, eyebrows furrowed, “on that note, I think we should move on.”

“I’ll leave,” Peter muttered dejectedly, picking his backpack up and slinging it over his shoulder, his head still resolutely turned to the floor. His aunt hadn’t even gotten to her feet yet when he flew across the room and-

Straight into Bucky.

The first casualty was the mocha. It was almost in slow motion that it tilted from Bucky’s hand, flying backwards and down his front, ruining his perfectly coordinated outfit of a pink jumper and dramatically tight black jeans, matched with some dark pink converse.

Goddamit, that really was a good outfit as well.

The next was Peter, who flew back so violently that he almost fell over himself and in a desperate attempt to stay upright, shot his hand out, spraying a large collection of webs directly at Bucky’s chest.

Which left them here: with Peter hanging backwards, hand around the webs firmly planted on Bucky’s chest, surrounded by the murky stain of coffee. “Oh shit,” Peter whispered, his eyes suddenly flying open. “Oh shit!” He repeated, desperately bringing himself upright. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t- oh god. I didn’t…I just…oh my god.” The panic continued in a half-decipherable ramble that continued right up until the moment Bucky interrupted. “Kid, stop.” Peter’s mouth slammed down so hard that he might have bruised himself. “It’s fine,” Bucky sighed, staring forlornly at his pink sweater. “It might wash out.”

“It won’t,” Tony helpfully added.

“It’s _still fine_ ,” Bucky reiterated, glaring at Tony before looking back to the poor kid, who might have been a few seconds of crying. This whole day had just been a whole load of crap, hadn’t it? “These guys need to cut you some slack.”

“Hey!” Tony shouted indignantly.

“Buck-,”

“No, Steve. You’re being too harsh. This kid is going to do it no matter what, you might as well help him so he doesn’t get himself killed.” Memories flashed unwittingly in his vision; a short punk trying to beat the shit out of kids double his size; Bucky running up to said guys and desperately trying to stop said punk from killing himself; getting the shit beaten out of him but defending Steve right to the last punch; a sunny smile sent at his best friend, answered with an indignant but silently pleased scowl.

“He’s _fifteen_.”

“Yeah, I was working when I was 14. Had to drop out of school and everything. And I was fighting since I was goddamn seven.”

“That was the _thirties_ , Buck. It’s different now.” Peter was watching the interaction with wide eyes, his head flittering back and forth like he was watching a tennis match. Bucky finally took pity on the kid.

“Hey, Aunt, is it alright if I talk to the kid alone for a bit?” He was well-versed enough in the 21st century to know that fully-grown adults asking to talk to teenagers alone was usually pretty bad. Pretty weird to him, who had constantly been given to strangers when his parents were at work, or too busy with his siblings. People trusted the neighbourhood and people were willing to help where they could, especially if the kids were young enough to be cute or the teenagers old enough to be helpful. Not that they were teenagers back then. Another fun new addition to society: teenagers. Apparently, it had come into fruition in the 50s, which Bucky was rather sad about. It sounded great. The ability to act like an adult whilst still being a kid, without the responsibilities of work burdened on your shoulders by the time you were strong enough to lift some crates.

“Um…”

“You can come, if you want,” he said with a smile, forced and awkward but a smile nonetheless. She seemed more comfortable with the arrangement, although it would make his job here a little harder, and followed him and Peter out the door.

As soon as they made their way into the elevator Peter started again. “I am _so sorry_. I didn’t mean to walk into you and really you didn’t have to do that back there and-,”

“Kid, it’s fine.”

“My name’s Peter,” he mumbled.

“Fair enough. Peter. I’m Bucky.”

“Bucky, as in…?”

“You’re a superhero now, you get to know all the secrets.”

Peter stared at him with wide eyes. “But, I mean, not to sound insensitive or anything, but aren’t you dead or something? Like, since 1945?”

“Yeah, they got it a bit wrong. Came back last year. Been doing some stuff to reintegrate back into life.”

“Where are we going?” His Aunt interrupted, looking curiously at their surroundings. The elevator had been falling for a long time.

“To the gym. It’s a few floors down into the basement levels.”

“Why-,”

“Honestly, it’s one of the few places in the tower I have access to that isn’t Steve’s apartment and I’ll know if anyone comes in.”

“Aren’t you an Avenger?”

“Nah, not really my thing anymore. Hence, you know,” he motioned towards his coffee-stained attire. “I’ve been trying to move away from that stuff.”

“Don’t you-,” Peter stopped, biting his lip.

“Spit it out. I don’t get offended easily.”

“Do you not feel odd hanging out with all these superheroes and not being one of them? I mean, are you even enhanced-,” Bucky calmly took off his glove and waved it at Peter.

“God plenty of enhancements. Got some serum in my veins too. I just don’t want to fight.”

“Don’t you feel guilty? Knowing you could fight and aren’t?”

Bucky sighed but was interrupted by the elevator doors opening, bringing them into the gym. Immediately, the Aunt made her way over the benches at the side and started scrolling through her phone, giving them privacy without letting Peter out of her sight. Smart lady. He brought Peter to the set of weights near the entrance and turned to him. “Not anymore. I know I’ve got a lot of debt to pay. A lot of things I need to atone for, but I don’t think violence is the answer to that. I want to do something good with my life, something that will help other people, but that can’t be fighting anymore. Not for me. I get why you want to. I’ve had enough conversations with Steve about it, about the merits of it, but it’s just not my style anymore.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I’ve always been interested in technology. I’m no Stark but I was always academic. Had to leave school early, though, so I’m behind. And multiply that by the change in curriculum and I’m _very_ behind. But I want to catch up and maybe go to college. Then I can help people with the things I make.”

“That’s awesome.” Peter scuffed his shoes against the floor for a moment. “Is it bad if I want to do both?”

“Not at all. If anything, I think it makes you that much more impressive.”

Peter blushed with a smile on his face. “Thanks, Bucky.”

“No problem. Now, I wanted to see what skills you’ve got. The best way to prove people wrong is to show them just how wrong they are. Prove to me you can fight.”

“Is that a…won’t Mr Stark be angry?”

“He doesn’t like me anyway and from what Steve’s told me, Tony has a soft spot for you.”

“I guess…”

“Worst case, we don’t even tell him.”

“Okay then. Um…where do I start?”

“You’re enhanced, right? Spider powers or something? Show me.”

Suddenly, Peter turned shy, as if something had just occurred to him. His eyebrows had furrowed in and his hands were awkwardly shifting at his side like he didn’t quite know where to put them. “Why are you doing this?” Peter finally asked. “I mean, I spilt coffee on you and you laughed at me when I said I could fight-.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you, not even close. I was laughing at Steve.”

“What?”

“Oh, you remind me of him. A lot. He was worse at your age. That’s why I’m doing this. I know how stubborn your sorts are. It’s a lot better to watch their back and help them than let them off on their own. Steve would have been dead by the age of ten if I hadn’t watched his six. Don’t tell him I told you that, though. He doesn’t like to admit it.”

“You think I’m like…Captain America?”

“Probably better. You got a brain on you too?”

“He’s a straight-A student!” His Aunt called from the side with a smile.

“Exactly. Steve was more of a…well, he was good at art. He wasn’t really good at anything else in school. I think it surprised a lot of people how good he was at strategy. Guess they don’t really get around to military training in school. But the only way you’re going to be able to keep up both sides of this is if you practice. Hence, you’re getting the Black Widow’s personal trainer to train you.”

“You trained Black Widow?”

Bucky stopped short for a moment, surprised that those words had left those mouth. Bucky had never admitted that aloud to anyone. He hadn’t really had to; Steve and Natasha already knew and he was pretty sure one of them had already told Sam. But still, it felt like a tidal wave sweeping him off his feet. “Don’t tell anyone that. I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, Bucky.”

“Good thing. Now, show me what you got.”

Peter didn’t argue, immediately going to the weights and starting on an already ludicrous weight, before working his way up in increments. He could probably beat Bucky, maybe even get close to Steve, with apparent ease. Bucky moved him on quickly, cautious not to tire him out quickly. They had a lot to get through. And honestly, neither of them were in gym clothes and it was probably best to salvage what they could.

He ran at high speed on the treadmills in silence before Bucky moved him onto the climbing frame, where he webbed straight up to the top. Smiling, Bucky called him back down with a shout. Peter flew to the ground with practised ease, landing in a crouch that even Bucky was surprised at. “How do you feel about sparring?” Bucky asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t worry if you don’t want to, kid.”

“W-what if I hurt you?”

“You’re plenty strong but I’ve got about 70 years training on you and enhancements of my own. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Peter nodded. “Then I wouldn’t mind trying. I’ve done some stuff with Mr Stark but it’s more a few martial arts moves.”

Bucky sighed. “Would have guessed. Stark isn’t all that great at hand-to-hand combat.” He turned and called out to Aunt May quickly, “is sparring okay with you?” She held up two thumbs before going back to her phone, looking far more at ease than she had to begin with. There was a small smile playing at the edges of her lips; clearly, at some point, she’d decided to trust Bucky.

“With that, show me what you’ve got.” Peter pounced immediately, arms tensed and ready to punch. Immediately, with the ease of a cat flicking a spider, Bucky pushed him back, strong enough that Peter fell backwards, landing on his back with a resounding thud. “First lesson: assess your opponent first. What are you up against with me?”

“Um…enhancements. And a metal arm?”

“What else?”

“I guess…you’re taller than me?”

“Yes. And?” If the look on Peter’s face was any indication, he had just about figured out what ‘training with Bucky’ really meant.

“You…” Silence descended for another minute. “I don’t know.”

“Got to go right back to basics, Peter. I’ve got long hair, use it to your advantage. Long haired opponents give you another attack.”

“You want me to…pull people’s hair?”

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re fighting criminals. They’re fighting dirty so you are too.”

“Okay. What else?”

“I’m male. You got to kick down there in a sticky situation.”

“What about with a woman?” Peter asked, an almost purple looking flush creeping up his cheeks as he tried to retract his words.

Cutting him off with a short laugh, Bucky said, “stop being embarrassed, it’s a genuine question. And it works well, it’s just not as effective. If you’ve got a better strategy, choose that.”

“Okay.”

“This is a sparring situation, so you know I’m not out to injure you. Use it. If someone’s trying to kill you, use it against them. Your technique is going to vary depending on their tactics.” Bucky waited for Peter to nod before continuing. It was almost comedic, this blank-eyed soldier with a coffee-stained, pink jumper and skinny jeans trying to teach a fifteen-year-old proficient fighting techniques. But somehow, between the two of them, it was like they’d been caught in the eye of the storm, focused and intent on their mission. Peter, to prove the Avengers they were wrong and Bucky, to keep another kid from killing himself on the streets for no goddamn reason. “Anything else you think you can spot?”

Peter waited for a second, scanning Bucky from head to toe. “You’re bulkier than me too. So you’d be slower?”

“You’ve got it. Now, how do you use that?” For the next two minutes, Bucky ran over how to use the observations to his advantage before Peter finally asked. “If it’s something they can use against you, why is your hair so long?”

Bucky sighed and grit his teeth, staring off into the middle-distance for a moment too long. “It’s a long story.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s good to be curious.” God knows Bucky struggled to be anymore; it was difficult when you thought everything was out to get you. “I went through a lot. Still can’t handle someone cutting my hair, so I’m keeping it long until I get the courage to cut it off.”

“Oh.”

“Not your problem to worry about. Now, how about we put your new skills to good use?” The distraction worked and Peter was immediately up and ready, a little too happy to be in a fight but focused nonetheless. This time, Bucky struck first. And then it was on.

Their blows would have looked vicious to any onlookers (and Aunt May was definitely looking more intently now) but the combination of enhanced healing and powerful punches made them almost equally matched, with little to no side effects being felt apart from the slow drip of sweat. Bucky, especially, was feeling the heat, but that’s what he got for not putting on a t-shirt under the sweater (but it was so goddamn soft). He wasn’t about to go parading his bare chest in front of a fifteen-year-old and his aunt.

The fight ended as soon as Bucky wanted it to end, but that didn’t mean Peter didn’t put up an impressive effort. Bucky noted each and every flaw, as well as each strong point, deciphering just how he would have to approach training Peter (assuming this was a thing that would continue which, in all honesty, it probably wasn’t going to be). With Bucky pulling Peter to the ground and into an arm lock, he ended the fight as swiftly as he could, with Peter dejectedly patting the mat.

“That was great,” Bucky said as soon as they were back on their feet.

“I could have done better.”

“And so could I, but it’s easier not to dwell on that. Do better next time, that’s all you can do.”

“Guess so.”

“Hey, don’t look so downtrodden, you genuinely did great. As I said, I’ve got a lot of training. It’s going to take a while before you come close to beating me.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“It might be,” Bucky said with a smile, the similarities with Steve dawning with every moment. The urge to fight, to stand up to the challenge, to _prove_ themselves. “Now, let’s go over the main pointers.”

They went for another half an hour and eventually May had turned back to her phone, tapping away at what looked to be a work email. Peter was starting to look weary but had a sappy smile on his face. “Thanks for this,” he said as Bucky sat down heavily on one of the benches, wiping away the sweat on his head with his jumper. It was already ruined, so why the hell not.

“It’s no problem. I don’t agree with Stark, though I rarely do. You deserve this.”

“So you get why I’m doing this?”

“I understand it. Whether I think you should is another matter entirely and if I’m honest, I don’t quite know the answer. But regardless of that, I think this is for the best. If you want to continue, that is.”

“You’d really teach me?”

“Of course. I’m not doing much else with my time.” He really, _really_ , wasn’t.

Peter sighed. “I want to. I really do. But without Mr Stark’s support…”

“I’ll turn him around.”

“You will?”

“Well, he’s not my biggest fan, but I’ll get Steve to turn him around. Or get Steve to turn Natasha around who will turn Stark around. Either way, I’ll get him to change his mind.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this. I literally spilt coffee all down your sweater.”

“People have done worse.” Far worse.

“Doesn’t mean I’m worthy.”

“No one’s worthy. We just gotta make the most of what we’ve got.”

“Thor’s worthy.”

Bucky scoffed. “If you think Steve can’t pick that damn hammer up, you’re wrong. But that hammer looks for specific things in a person, things _it_ deems worthy. But to go philosophical, who knows what worthy even really is? It’s arbitrary. Don’t put yourself up to arbitrary standards.”

“You’re really good at this.”

“Good at what?” Bucky asked genuinely.

“I don’t know…talking. Counselling kinda stuff.” Bucky didn’t know what to say to that. “Anyway, I’ve got to go! I’ve got homework to do.”

That snapped Bucky out of his trance. “This time next week? Here?”

“Really?!”

“Yeah, Peter, really.”

“Okay, that sounds, like, really great. I’ll see you next week. Bye, Bucky!”

“Bye, Peter! May.”

“Bye, Bucky!” May called back with a smile and something in Bucky loosened.

Well, seemed he’d gained himself a trainee.


	2. Peter II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, thank you so much for all the comments and kudos! It's only been a day and it's already looking like this might be one of my more popular fics :D 
> 
> Slightly shorter chapter today but tomorrow's will be longer and introduce our second teenager!
> 
> Really hope you enjoy!  
> (Comments really are my life)
> 
> [EDIT: Having just learnt that emails might not be working for a while from the 21st, I just wanted to say that I post every day at 8pm (BST) if it's easier to keep track of it that way :)]

“We’re using your webs this week.” Peter stared at him, clearly torn between excitement and worry. One week wasn’t enough to quell Peter’s fears about hurting anyone, even if they were enhanced.

“Is that a good idea?” Making his way into the ring, Peter motioned back at his bag. “They’re pretty powerful.”

“I think I can survive being hit with a web.”

Peter shrugged. “You’d be surprised.”

Sighing, Bucky raked a hand through his hair. “You don’t need to worry about me.” Maybe the clothes, he thought, but didn’t deem that important enough to say aloud. At least he was in gym gear this week, as boring but practical as it was. “If it makes you feel better, we’ll start out with just shooting the walls, not me. Practice manoeuvring through a space.”

“Is that nec-,”

“First lesson of the day, using your space to your advantage is more important than the actual fight. Anyone can beat someone standing in the middle of the street. You have to be tactical.”

“Isn’t it a little hard in here?” Peter asked dubiously, looking at the gyms clean painted walls, without a hold in sight. No barriers, nothing to hide behind, just four sprawling walls. The only things to hide behind were the rafters and some of the larger pieces of equipment.

“It’s better to start in a hard scenario. Will make the actual scenarios seem a lot easier.”

Peter sighed, a combination of fear and scepticism on his face, as he went back to his bag and pulled out his web-shooters. “Go up to the rafters,” Bucky ordered, doing his best impression of Steve’s Captain voice.

“Yes, sir,” Peter teased with a mocking salute before shooting two webs at the rafters and pulling himself up with a strong tug. The landing was neat, almost perfect, but Bucky couldn’t help but ask, “are you sticking to that?”

“How do you know that?”

“It’s in your balance. The landing wasn’t perfect, good, but not perfect, but you didn’t move when you landed. Barely even flinched. Something’s keeping you grounded.”

“Yeah, but it’s kind of natural. I don’t really…choose.”

“You don’t stick to everything,” Bucky pointed out.

“Okay, it’s a little bit choice but I’m not…brilliant at it.” There was a story there, for sure.

“What’s it like on flat surfaces?” Rather than answer, Peter leapt towards the walls, hands splayed until he was just resting on the surface, fingertips putting pressure on the space he took up.

“Cool,” Bucky whispered, eyes a little wide.

(It even surprised Peter nowadays that he could do this. It was the one thing that seemed truly unreal, because that was him doing it. Not his suit, or his webs, but just him. Sticking to stuff.

Maybe he should have been called sticky-man?

NO! No. That was a _bad_ idea. A stupid one. Don’t even…)

“Peter!” Bucky yelled, for what must have been the third or fourth time.

“Sorry,” he called, “was just thinking.”

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Bucky frowned but didn’t push before directing Peter back to the ground. For the rest of the session, they focused on flips and landings, before going onto how to use the space, which was mostly composed of ways to blend in. Spy-craft (which, Peter thought, _was awesome_ ).

Then, same as last week, to finish it off, they put his skills to the test in a sparring match. “You’re gonna try and use your webs. Doesn’t even have to be towards me but use the space.” Peter nodded and as soon as Bucky ducked down into a defensive pose, shot up to the rafters with a sly smile.

“I’ve got to point out that whilst that seemed like a great strategy, you’re gonna have to shoot at me now.” Peter frowned, mulling it over for a bit. “You sure?”

“’Course, Peter. I can hold my own.”

With permission granted, Peter immediately shot down with two hands, two fingers flattened to let the webs fly towards Bucky’s wrists, a move that should have ended the fight immediately with Bucky’s hands tied, soon to be dragged to the floor. Should being the operative word. Webs flew and Bucky extended the arms, letting the webs wrap around his wrists before he got the web in his hand and _tugged_.

Peter went flying from the rafters, saving himself at the last minute by putting the pressure on Bucky as they collided, throwing him backwards and landing on his feet. “Nice thinking, your reactions are getting quicker,” Bucky complimented as he stood back up. “Now, do it again.”

“I thought this was us sparring, not _more_ practice,” Peter whined. Bucky didn’t say anything, raising a single eyebrow pointedly in a move he’d definitely stolen from Natasha (he learnt from the best). “Yeah, I get it. Practice makes perfect and all.”

“Now you’re getting it.”

They didn’t do much more but time still ticked on and Bucky called Peter off the rafters and started to pack up the few bits of equipment they’d moved, giving cursory glances to Peter when he knew he wasn’t looking. Now that Bucky’s back was turned, Peter looked a little worse for wear. The adrenaline of the fight had worn off, leaving something vacant in his eyes and heavy on his back. It was no look to be on a kid.

“Hey, Pete, can we chat?”

“Pete?”

“You mind?”

“Guess not.”

“You wanna sit down?” A little warily, Peter made his way over to the benches on the side of the room and sat down, legs crossed and tucked under him to keep his balance. He looked young like this, every bit the 15-(soon to be 16)-years-old he was. Bucky followed easily, leaving a little room for Peter to breathe, his arms resting on his knees with his hands clasped: a position he usually used to interrogate Steve. Except like this, with both of them facing the gym, Bucky hoped it was a little less intense.

“Are you alright? You look a little tired.”

“I’m fine.”

“You want me to be honest?”

“Am I allowed to say no?”

Bucky laughed and turned his head to Peter. “No, probably not.” He didn’t mean it; Bucky would always back off if Peter said no, but Bucky still stood by a code of honesty, even if that made the other party uncomfortable. “I don’t think you’re doing so well,” Bucky admitted, turning his head away again. “When you fight, something focuses you but outside of that…” Bucky sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “I don’t want you to become dependent on the fight. That shouldn’t be all you are. That shouldn't be the only thing that makes you _happy_.”

“There’s other stuff.”

“Good, I’d hope so. But when I turned my back, you seemed to deflate. That doesn’t look like everything’s going great.”

“It’s…it’s just…” Peter huffed and unravelled his legs, delaying the inevitable just that bit longer. “There’s a lot going on. Tony’s still really annoyed, and I was just about to start an internship with him. That’s how he found out about the whole age thing, and now I’m not sure he’ll let me have it. And Flash has started pushing harder at school. And this girl I liked, Liz, moved away and didn’t even tell me. And then there’s…you don’t want to hear this.”

“I don’t mind. You should talk about stuff.”

“It’s stupid. Teenager problems, that’s all.”

“You know, when I grew up, there wasn’t such a thing as ‘teenagers’. Just kids then adults. You would be an adult right about now so don’t go on about your problems as if they’re anything less. To me, they’re just as important as Steve complaining about his stuff. And he complains _a lot_.”

“He does?”

“Oh yeah, loads. He used to be all fists and fighting but now that he’s got this symbol stuck on his chest, he’s had to resort to a lot of complaints and whining.”

“That’s why I don’t want people knowing I’m Spiderman. I can’t imagine having to change to fit an image.”

“I think it’s a good call. You’re young, you haven’t even figured yourself out yet.”

“When did you? Figure yourself out, I mean.”

“Still haven’t. But I’ve had some unique circumstances. But I still think it's normal. Ask any of the Avengers, none of them has really got it. It’ll come eventually. But not yet.”

Peter was fiddling with his sleeves, looking down at the floor, a small frown on his face. “Do you think Tony will forgive me?”

“In a heartbeat. The guy holds a grudge but they’re hardly serious. Give him a coffee and you’ll be back to being his favourite person.”

“Really?” Peter asked, clearly dubious.

“You underestimate how much he likes you. He’s annoyed, sure, but that’s more about his own guilt-complex than about you. He doesn’t want to be the one to drag you into this.”

“What about you?”

“I’m not dragging you anywhere. I’m helping you out. You would be out there doing it without me anyway.”

“You’re right.”

“Normally am.”

Peter smiled. “And you’re really willing to listen to my problems?”

“Of course. I like helping.”

They talked for a while, mostly focused on Peter’s problems with Tony. Bucky kept trying to bring up this kid Flash but Peter was amazingly good at changing the subject so he soon let it drop, instead going through some things Peter could do to approach Tony and have the conversation they needed to have.

Bucky couldn’t do much but listen but by the end of it, Peter was feeling a lot more confident and had decided he’d call Tony when he got home and ask about the internship, where he could then start to talk out the rest of their issues. Hopefully in the Tower, where Bucky might be on hand in case anything went disastrously wrong. (It wouldn’t, but it made Peter feel better to have backup).

They were finally calling it a day and Peter was approaching his gym bag, something shifty in his posture. Whilst it didn’t set Bucky entirely on edge, he was tense enough that if something came out of the blue, he’d be ready. It was almost shameful, sometimes, how little he could trust people. But as he kept telling himself, it wasn’t a lack of trust that was doing this but rather a danger response instilled into him over the years. Or maybe that was his therapist telling him.

“Um, how long are you free for today?” Peter asked suddenly, one foot digging into the floor like a coy teenager.

“All day. Why?”

“Well,” Peter took in a deep breath and rummaged through his gym bag, pulling out a heavy book with a glossy front cover and plain art. “You said you wanted to catch up on what you missed, education stuff. And I thought, well, you’ll always need math. So I brought a textbook? If you wanted me to…”

“Kid,” Bucky stared down at the book, slowly reaching out with his flesh hand, blinking away the sudden onset tears in his eyes. They’d never spill but their mere presence was…a lot.

“Is that a yes? Because I really am happy to. I like math, and it’s always good to refresh my memory on it.”

“I- that would be great, Peter.” Bucky looked up, something dangerously hopeful lurking behind his eyes. “Thank you.”

“No problem, Bucky!” Peter said with an excited smile, clearly glad to be able to pay his due back. “Where do you want to start? I honestly don’t know much about education in the 40s-,”

“20s.”

“Oh, right, yeah. Sorry. 20s, but my point stands.”

“It was a lot of shapes. Angles. That sort of thing.”

“Geometry?”

“Yeah. Think so.”

“What about algebra?”

“Um…I’m not even really sure what that is. Apart from letters.”

Peter let out a not unkind laugh and flicked open to one of the earlier pages. “Okay, so might have to deviate from the book a bit just to point out the basics but it shouldn’t be too hard. You got any paper?”

“I can write on my tablet.”

“Sure, sounds great.”

The lesson was awkward at first, both of them unused to the altered dynamic. Bucky kept interrupting and Peter kept letting him but eventually, as they progressed, both seemed to learn their places and Bucky kept his comments to a minimum whilst Peter did his best to be a ‘teacher’ despite the pushback. It was a work in progress but by the end of it - with Bucky now understanding the basics of letters in maths and how to manipulate equations, expressions and some functions - both were smiling happily at their progress. Bucky was a quick learner, aided by an enhanced brain on top of it. Really, Peter wouldn’t be surprised if he was a secret genius who just hadn’t had the potential to show it yet.

“You’re great at this,” Peter finally pointed out, as he tucked the heavy textbook back into his bag.

“Thanks. I didn’t expect to pick it up so quickly. Serum must be helping me. But you were great too. You didn’t let me get away with my weaknesses.”

“Learnt that from you.”

“Seems so,” Bucky said with an even wider smile, clapping Peter on the shoulder before adding, “you should get home before May starts to worry. She may trust me so far but I’m betting she could give me a run for my money if you got back too late.”

“You’re probably right.” Peter laughed and slung the bag over his shoulder. “See you next week?”

“‘Course. Maybe we’ll go outside and test out the training.”

“Sounds great. Bye!”

Bucky didn’t think he’d smiled like this in weeks. Seems Peter wasn’t the only one this was helping.


	3. Wanda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's our newest character! And a little more of an in depth look into Steve and Bucky's relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note, the scenes on either side of the page split are not in the same day, but rather a week apart. I did my best to make that clear but it's not perfect.
> 
> Also, thank you so much for the brilliant response on this. It's been astounding seeing the comments come in and the sheer number of people subscribed already! (And it's only been three days!!!)
> 
> Thank you all, hope you enjoy, this is one of my favourite chapters (although there aren't a great deal written yet) :)

Bucky lounged in bed in the mornings whilst Steve ran. It wasn’t that he wasn’t a morning person, he probably was, but there was something freeing about lying in the sheets with a book without the pressure to get out of it. So, maybe Bucky was a bit of a bed hog, lying under the covers at times that were definitely inappropriate (to everyone else, that was) but there was no harm in it. Sam kept saying he needed to be careful, that staying in bed that long was definitely a sign of a depressive spiral. Bucky believed, through and through, that Sam had clearly never spent the day in bed.

It was, for the most part, a privacy issue. The bed was comfortable, more so than any of the sofas in the apartment (of which there were two) and was also the most secluded space in the apartment. The door had a lock, which he rarely used but liked as a contingency plan, and there was an en-suite attached. So unless he needed food, there was little need to actually leave the room. Then, with its large windows that spanned the left wall, it certainly didn’t fall short on sunlight.

It was Bucky’s haven, and no one could take that away from him.

Although, it was also Steve’s room, and that meant Bucky had to deal with a certain super soldier stomping through it at regular intervals.

Steve had come in with an irritated scowl, slamming the door behind him like an impetuous teenager before he stalked towards the bedroom. Knowing what was coming, Bucky placed his book on the bedside table - sorry Russian lady, I’ll pay more attention next time but I’ve got a super soldier to deal with - and crossed his legs with his hands set neatly in his lap. He was the picture of calm, ready to calm Steve down from the storm he was about to start.

“Can you believe it!” Steve huffed, hand clutched tightly around the doorframe. It already had multiple cracks in it from previous attempts to crush it but no matter what, it didn’t seem to fall prey to Steve’s anger. Bucky liked that doorframe.

“Believe what?”

“Some woman…she was, she was shouting at this kid for no reason. Accusing him of stealing. And he clearly hadn’t done anything. And then she had the guts to try and grab him and I had to split it up. Honestly, if I wasn’t like _this_ ,” he spat, motioning to his overly-sized body, “I would have given her my best right hook.” Clearly, there was more to it than that but Steve wasn’t going to be forthcoming with it and in all honesty, Bucky wasn’t in the mood to push.

“But she left him alone?”

Steve sighed, his anger draining by the second. “Yeah. One look at me and she just gaped for a few seconds before turning her back and running off. The kid thanked me but he looked just as starstruck. He asked for a selfie.”

“Did you give him one?”

“Of course.”

Bucky sighed. “You know you don’t owe _everyone_ a picture.”

“The kid was having a bad enough day without Captain America refusing a picture with him.”

“Steve, you helped the guy out. That was probably enough.”

“It was fine.” Bucky stopped pushing, deeming to bring it up another time (Steve hated photos, hated feeling out of place, but suffered through them out of some misconstrued sense of duty. He wasn’t a celebrity, it wasn’t his job, but he did it anyway because he was a good guy like that. It was why Bucky loved him.)

“Come here,” Bucky sighed, beckoning Steve with a wave of his hand. Still stomping like an enraged two-year-old, Steve came over and flopped onto the bed, splayed out like a starfish with his right arm hooked over Bucky’s stomach, his leg brushing up against Bucky’s right. Calmly, with the expertise of years together, Bucky started running a hand through Steve’s hair, making him embarrassingly limp. It was Steve’s weakness and one that only Bucky was privy to.

“You feeling better?” Bucky asked after five minutes.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed, obviously dejected. His favourite past time was holding onto anger and releasing it in the most violent and troublesome way. Bucky had been trying to redirect him lately but that didn’t mean Steve wasn’t bitter about it. “How did you learn all this?”

“Learn what?”

“I don’t know, being this calm. You weren’t like this-,” Steve cut himself off quickly, moving away from Bucky’s hand like he’d been burnt.

“A lot of things have changed,” Bucky said quietly, moving his hand back into position. He’d been telling Peter the truth when he said wasn’t easily offended; he took the truth at face value and dealt with his emotions when it was safe to do so. Sam said repression was unhealthy but Bucky knew it was a valuable tool.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You only said the truth. I wasn’t like this back then. But it’s something I’m learning now.”

“Now I’m starting to understand why Peter still comes to you every week.”

“You still mad?”

Steve sighed, pushing himself up so he could sit against the headboard next to Bucky. Bucky always took the left side, and Steve the right. “No. I still don’t think the kid should fight. No one that young should have to see what we see. But I get why you’re doing it.”

“Good.”

“Tony does too.” Steve slowly leant to the left until his head hit Bucky’s shoulder. He was still so often timid in his actions, like they weren’t supposed to be like this while they were ‘friends’. Bucky had soon knocked him out of that attitude. They were together now and everyone who needed to know knew. They could do whatever they liked as long as they were both comfortable with it.

Steve said that was the problem; he didn’t ever want to assume what Bucky was comfortable with anything.

They were working on it.

“I’d hope so. The kid misses him. A lot.”

“Tony misses him too. But they’re working on it. Peter went back to the labs last week.”

Bucky smiled honestly. “That’s great. He deserves it. They both do.”

“You know how great you are?”

“Don’t be a sap.”

“It’s true, though. You’re the best man I’ve ever known.”

Bucky blushed, right from his forehead to his toes, but the smile on his face was infallible. “You’re better.”

“Liar.”

“Punk.”

“Jerk.”

Bucky honestly didn’t know the last period of his life where he’d felt so alive.

~*~

“Flying kick. You’re lighter and faster than me, it should be an easy land.”

“But I’ll be aiming at your head!”

“And? I’m strong, Peter. Stop worrying about my head. I thought we’d learnt by now that you’re not going to hurt me.”

“Sorry, I know, it’s just-,”

“It’s still a fear, I get it. But I’m going to remind you again, it’s _fine_. Come on, give it a go.”

Peter took in a comically large breath and set his shoulders back. Bracing himself, he flew into the air, one leg outstretched in a classic Taekwondo move, flying towards Bucky’s head. (Stark hadn’t actually been that wrong to start with martial arts. It suited Peter’s style when he didn’t have webs available and was a great backup). Bucky ducked.

“Aw, come on!”

“Always aim lower, so if they duck, you might still hit them.”

“You said to aim for the head!”

“So aim for the chest, so when I duck, you get the head.”

Peter groaned with his head held backwards, voice carrying to the ceiling. Peter was just getting back into position as the elevator doors opened, revealing a tired-looking girl, her bedraggled brown hair hanging loosely around her face and large bags under her green eyes. Bucky recognised the look. And if he had to guess, this would be Wanda.

Steve had already messaged him about Ultron, who’d they defeated only a few days ago. Bucky had already seen it on the news but it was nice to hear a confirmation that everyone on the team was okay. Others were not so lucky. Selfishly, Bucky hadn’t put much thought into it; he’d seen a lot of murder in his time, he didn’t have the time to dwell on it anymore. But he’d already got the full rant about Stark’s lunacy and had the decency to feign anger.

Honestly, when you killed a guy’s parents, you weren’t really allowed to be angry at them.

“Um, I’m sorry. I thought this was the common room.” Her accent was thick but easily understood, something already American in her inflection (did someone give her elocution lessons?). Kindly, Bucky addressed her in Russian - Sokovia had its own dialect but Russian was just as commonly used and Bucky could speak it better. “Don’t worry about it. Wanda, right? Steve told me about you.”

“He did?” She replied back in Russian. She was trying to look strong but she was shuffling from side to side, glaring at the floor like she wanted it to swallow her up. There was anger in her and grief so evident it could have blinded Bucky. He didn’t apologise for the death of her brother - he knew she didn’t want to hear it - but he felt sorry nonetheless.

Taking pity on Peter, who looked both entranced and terrified, he quickly switched back to English. “Yes. He told me what happened to you.”

“That is none of his business.”

“Whatever he knows, I know. And it is his business now. He’s the Captain and if you’re going to be sticking around, you’re under his orders.”

“But I’m not-,” Peter started.

“You’re not an Avenger. So you’re under my orders.”

“But I don’t-,”

“Don’t try and argue.”

“Okay.”

“Who are you?” Wanda asked, folding her arms across her chest, clearly unsure what else to do with them.

“Peter. Peter Parker. Um, Spiderman. Wait, is she allowed to know that? I mean, she’s an Avenger, right?”

“It’s fine. You won’t tell, will you?”

“Of course not. That would be rude. I’m Wanda. Maximoff,” she added, just a moment later.

“Nice to meet you. Um, I heard about Sokovia, I’m sorry-,”

“Peter,” Bucky warned before he could get any further. The kid was a chatterbox and kinder than any other teenager Bucky had met but he also ran his mouth and usually managed to say the wrong thing. It wasn’t something Bucky normally tamped down but Wanda was in a fragile state right now, swinging on the precipice of losing herself alongside everything else and Bucky didn’t want Peter to be the one to push her over the edge.

“It’s fine. It is how life goes,” she lied. Her life was unlike most.

“So, you were helping Ultron before?” Bucky asked. He hoped the investigation wouldn’t back-fire. When he was first free, it was the only thing he latched onto: data, information, logic. He couldn’t handle the emotions in his head so he blinded it with facts, recounting his nightmares as if he was writing down an equation. Not much had changed; he liked to know things. Although he hoped it wasn’t at her expense.

“Um, well, only for a little while.” She was suddenly staring at the floor, biting her lip.

“Let me guess, you helped worse guys. Who, AIM? Doom?”

“Hydra,” she whispered.

Bucky resisted the urge to puke, feeling himself take a step back. “You helped Hydra?”

“I- I-.” She stopped, swallowing her words before raising her head. “I did. Yes.” She felt guilty, then, but not ashamed.

“Do you know who I am?”

“No.”

He switched to Russian again. Peter knew parts of his history but not all of it (not even much of it). He knew he’d been captured in the 40s, made to do things he didn’t want to do and found again by Steve last year. But that was all. He didn’t need to know more. Not yet. “Asset code?” He asked.

“11072.” She paused. “Yours?”

“1.”

“No,” she breathed, shaking her head. She took a step backwards before re-deciding her approach, taking purposeful steps forward until she was nearly on the sparring mat, watching him carefully. “You’re _the_ Asset?”

“I am.”

“How are you here?”

“Steve saved me. After Hydra fell. You should trust them. They will help you.”

“They don’t understand. They don’t know what it feels like to know you were working for something so…”

“No, they don’t,” he replied honestly. He genuinely believed that honesty was the best policy.

“You do.”

“Yes. But I am not on their team.”

“You are training him.” She pointed at Peter who, like earlier, was watching them like he was following the ball of a tennis match but with about ten degrees more confusion and just as much fascination.

“I am.”

“Can you train me?”

“Why? Do you want to fight?”

“I want to take down Hydra. They lied to me. To us. I want them gone. Same as Ultron.”

“Revenge doesn’t always help.” Sometimes it did, Bucky wasn’t going to pretend that it didn’t, but it wasn’t worth your entire life.

Bucky switched to English again. “What are your skills? Peter could use a new partner.” Bucky was pretty sure Peter didn’t know whether to feel elated or terrified.

Calmly, Wanda put both her palms to the floor and as if she was wearing Iron Man’s gauntlets, floated above the ground, red tethers acting as her buoyancy aid. She reached out her hand towards the weights and picked them all up with tendrils of red sparks and smiled.

“Hand to hand?”

“Dreadful,” she admitted.

“Perfect, then I can teach you something, Scarlet Witch.” She had clearly never been given a nickname; there was a delighted smile teasing the edges of her mouth.

They trained for the next hour, focused and elaborate until Bucky finally gave into Peter’s request: a stupid one, but what was one more for the history books? A free for all; everything and anything on the table (excluding anything especially traumatic, _Wanda_. Steve was still a little screwed up about being trapped back in the 40s). Bucky was at the biggest disadvantage, seeing as he didn’t exactly have any unusual weaponry or skills but he was also the best at blending into the background and defending against short-range attacks. Wanda couldn’t even reach into his mind; he had too much training in stopping mind control (helped by a few pointers from Clint, relayed kindly through Steve).

Wanda’s powers didn’t seem to be completely effectual against Peter’s webs, as numerous and complex as they were, but it definitely lessened their effect, even if it gave Peter the leg up he needed. She was also, unfortunately, very good at changing their surroundings to her advantage. She was a force to be reckoned with but somehow, in the end, they were all laughing.

Mostly because, in an act of skill that no one was expecting, Bucky got up onto the rafters, crawled behind Peter and right as he winked at Wanda, leaning towards Peter’s left ear, screeched “ON YOUR LEFT!”

Peter screeched (very much like a girl), plummeting to the ground, only to be caught by his webs about an inch from the floor. “Wh- what? How?!” He shouted indignantly. Bucky pointed to the climbing wall. “But you’d have to jump like…right, you’re skilled. I’m starting to get that.”

“You should have ‘got that’ weeks ago, Peter, but sure,” Bucky taunted from his place, swinging his legs childishly off the edge. “Wanda,” he called out before asking in Russian, “can you bring me down?” With a smile, she used her webs of magic to brace him before slowly bringing him to the floor.

And promptly burst into tears.

Peter was wide-eyed and cautious, approaching her carefully but she was already backing away, wrapping her arms around herself like it was her only brace against the world.

“Peter, go. I’ll deal with this.”

“Are you sure? I can help-.”

“Not today. I’ll see you next week?”

“Sure thing, Bucky, thanks for the training.”

“No problem. And just remember, if you ever want to talk, just ask Stark to contact me.” He still hadn’t given the kid his number, scared to cross a boundary in their relationship. They were somewhere between teacher-student and just goddamn friends but Peter was young and Bucky was aware enough to know that asking for his number could definitely be crossing some sort of boundary.

“Will do. See you next week.” Bucky just smiled and waved Peter off before hurrying over to where Wanda now set, just off the side of the bench, knees huddled to her chest on the soft, rubber floor.

“Wanda? Are you okay?” Quietly, she shook her head, burying it in between her knees. “You want to tell me what happened?” He asked gently, getting down onto his knees and trying, impossibly, to catch her eye.

“I don’t know why this is happening,” she choked out, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I- nothing happened and I’m not usually this WEAK!” She shouted, slamming her hand against the ground in possessed fury, showers of sparks scattering from her hands. Slowly, the red tendrils wrapped around her arms and up her body, until it was holding up the very tips of her hair. She looked like a goddess, wrapped up in blood and torment, but all Bucky could see was a teenager. A teenage girl who had her own Asset code, because she’d been used just as much as he had, even if her service had been far more voluntary. Or so he hoped.

“I know you don’t want to hear it right now but you need to calm down or else you’re going to hurt someone.”

“I’m not weak,” she was muttering, over and over, as if Bucky’s words weren’t even registering.

“No, you’re not weak. Honestly, with the week you’ve had, I’m surprised this didn’t happen sooner. This needed to happen, Wanda, no matter how much you hate it. Everyone needs to break. You just gotta find the best time to do it.” (Hypocrite.)

“I don’t…I don’t even understand why…”

“When did you start to feel like this? During the fight?”

“No. It was when I used my…to bring you…it was…” realisation dawned quickly on her face, “it was the first time I’d ever used my powers for something…non-violent. Something not part of the fight. Something helpful.”

“Hurts the first time, doesn’t it?” She looked up at him and Bucky could see the last remnants of childhood left inside her. “When I first escaped, I ran. Steve had saved me but I couldn’t even go near him. I didn’t want to hurt him. But when I came back, I finally touched him for the first time without meaning to hurt him and it was…it fucking hurt. A lot. I thought I didn’t deserve it, or maybe that I didn’t know I was capable of it. Honestly, I still don’t know.”

“It just…I don’t…understand what I’m feeling.” She was speaking in fully-fledged Sokovian now but Bucky was proficient enough in most languages to pick up what she was saying, even if it took an extra few seconds.

“That’s because you’re feeling a lot. It’s going to take a long, long time before you can pick them apart. There’s going to be some guilt there. A hell of a lot of guilt. Some fear. Some hope. Some happiness. Some sadness. All conflicting. It’s why it’s so difficult.”

“H-have you managed to pick them apart?” She hiccupped.

“Not entirely.” Probably not even mostly, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. The best way to make progress was to have trust in the method. It was probably one of the few times that he wouldn’t tell the entire truth and not feel guilty about it afterwards. “It’s still difficult but I’ve got methods of coping. Friends that can help me. Steve.”

“Is he your…?”

“Yeah, been together for a couple of months now. Or our whole lives, depending on how you want to look at it.”

“That’s nice. I don’t have anyone anymore.” She stared at the far wall, eyes almost in a trance. She was somewhere else, he knew, but was still clinging onto his words.

“You can have me. Peter, if you want. Pretty sure he’s infatuated already.” She huffed a laugh, her eyes clearing slowly. “The rest of the Avengers too. I know you fought them but they fought me too and, well, with the exception of Stark, I’m pretty friendly with most of them.” That wasn’t quite the truth. He didn’t see them all that often, but he wasn’t exactly unfriendly with any of them. He was welcome whenever he wanted to stop by.

“But you had Steve.”

“And you have me. I know we don’t know each other very well but I can be in your corner if you want me to be. You deserve it. Everyone who escapes Hydra deserves it. It’s not easy, even more so for you.”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s hard knowing that I chose-.”

“Don’t. I’m sure you had your reasons.”

“I did,” she admitted, breathing in deep before releasing it as if she had finally let a weight off her shoulders.

“So, how would you feel about joining me and Peter for our weekly sessions? We do a bit of training, talk some things out when he needs help. It always helps to have some structure when your world gets uprooted.”

“That sounds really nice.”

“Good. Be here same time next week. I don’t want to cut this short but I’ve got to get back to Steve before he starts a search party. He’s a bit paranoid. Same thing goes for you and Peter. You need help, contact me. Any of the Avengers will give you my details if you need them.”

“Thanks, Bucky.” She stood up, brushing herself down. “Really, thank you. You didn’t need to do any of this.”

“It helps me just as much as it helps you,” he admitted. It really did. He got to think about issues he’d never really thought about before, ones that were just as applicable to him as anyone else. And it helped him feel in control, to feel like he was doing something good despite having put his gun down. He hadn’t been lying, either, that it helped to keep structure. He didn’t have much to do with his life at the moment; something like these weekly sessions really helped.

“Well, guess I can’t complain then.”

“You really can’t. I’ll see you next week, Wanda.”

“Yes,” she smiled, “next week.”


	4. Wanda II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really happy with this chapter :) We have a bit more of a look into Wanda's character and some great moments with Bucky and Peter. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> And thank you again for all the comments and kudos. They are so appreciated. Each one really pushes me to write more :D
> 
> (Sorry that these authors notes are so repetitive XD I'm not used to writing them or trying to convey gratitude)

Wanda settled seamlessly into their group. She and Peter were fast friends, despite their differences; a friendship built from honesty and openness. And despite the age difference, it had been no different for Bucky, who had taken the two teenagers under his wing and befriended them with the same ease. Whilst being their teacher, he was equally their friend.

Wanda’s shell had slowly started to crack and whilst she was liable to shutting them out at seemingly random intervals, she started to smile more, and laugh, and dig deeper into her thoughts when she was talking to them both. It was quickly becoming a group therapy session of sorts, one that even Bucky spoke in sometimes, although he tried to be careful: he didn’t want to burden two teenagers with his baggage. He had Steve for that.

It was after her third session with them, when she’d quietly admitted in Sokovian that she had thought of killing herself during the battle when she’d lost her brother, that Peter brought up a topic he'd been waiting on for a while. Not immediately, of course, even he wasn't that insensitive. He was even patient, waiting until Wanda asked him what was on his mind, her shoulders loose and her eyes slowly drying.

He wanted to have language lessons.

“Maybe on a different day?” Peter suggested hesitantly, arms folded over his chest, ready to hide himself away at the slightest of rejections. It felt silly, after listening to such dark topics, but it had been something he'd been thinking of since Wanda first arrived at their sessions.

“Sounds good, Pete. What do you want to learn?”

“Russian. And Sokovian. Do you speak Spanish?”

“I speak most languages.” They’d programmed that into him early.

“Well, that one’s not that important because I do it at school but it would help me out, maybe, if I had a little extra-,"

“We can all three. That’s fine. How about Wednesday? After school.”

"Are you sure? I really don't want to take up your time-"

"Peter, it's fine. I'd like to."

“What times do you got to school?” Wanda asked, her accent thick but her voice soft. Sokovian was a little less harsh than Russian, although similar in most other ways. It had aspects of Polish intertwined within the alphabet and pronunciation, and a small amount of Romanian vocabulary. Some Hungarian too. However, as former part of the U.S.S.R, it still was predominantly Russian. It would make it easy to teach Peter both at once, if a little confusing. Having two natives (if Bucky could really be called that) would help a lot, though. There was nothing to inspire learning than actually requiring the language, rather than having some abstract concept of use in the future.

“Um, I start at eight and finish at three.”

“That suits me well.” No one pointed out that most times would probably suit Wanda; she was having a hard time figuring out what she wanted to do with her future and because of that, had plenty of free time on her hands. Bucky had spoken to Steve about it but apart from extending her training hours, there wasn’t much they could do. Steve had talked to those living in the tower (or at least staying there most of the time) and got Wanda involved in more group activities but unfortunately, the Avengers were all somewhat lone-wolves, or pairs. It occupied her evenings but little else. Which was, in part, the main reason Bucky had been so quick to accept the new Wednesday sessions.

Normally, Wanda would quickly disappear, still a little shy, but today she hung around, meaning she was around when Peter dug into his bag and fished out the science textbook they’d moved onto, which outlined the basic principles of physics: mostly introductions to energy, circuitry and a small section on space. Space was by far his favourite, but that wasn’t a surprise.

“What is that?”

“Oh, I’m teaching Bucky some maths and physics so he can catch up. Maybe go into further education.”

“Like homeschooling?”

“Yeah, I guess. You could kind of call it that.”

“Can I join in?”

“Of course! Do you have anything to write on?” Her face deflated a bit as she shook her head.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bucky assured. “JARVIS? Send down a notepad and pens, please?”

“Of course, Mr Barnes.”

A thought came to Bucky out of the blue, one that he was stupid not to think of before. “Wanda, has anyone in the tower asked you about school?”

“No,” she said with a shrug, “I did not go to school before. I think they see me as older. But I never finished school.”

“Do you want to?”

“If I had the opportunity, yes. But I do not feel ready to be in a school. I do not...trust myself.”

Bucky nodded solemnly. “I’ll talk to Steve. You should be given the opportunity to finish school before this whole thing overwhelms you.”

Wanda smirked, although it was somewhat self-deprecating. “I think it already has.”

“Well hopefully this will be a good place to start. Did you do much physics before?”

Wanda shook her head. “It was mostly maths and literature. We did not have the staff for science.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, “but hopefully you won’t find this boring then.”

“Hopefully not.”

Their usual format wouldn’t work so instead of sitting side by side on the benches, Bucky asked JARVIS whether there was somewhere better they could go than the gym.

“Mr Barnes, there is a conference room on floor 63 that is empty on Saturday and Wednesday afternoons. It would appear to suit your purposes.”

“Thanks, JARVIS. So, what do you guys think?” In a move that Bucky hadn’t seen before, Peter and Wanda turned to each other entirely in synch before turning back to Bucky and nodding, perfectly synchronised.

“Never do that again. That was The Shining level of creepy.”

“Oooh, we could be creepy twins, Wanda! It would be great.”

“I have never seen The Shining.”

“Watch it with Natasha. She loves horror,” Bucky suggested off-handedly. Wanda smiled and nodded, following Bucky, Peter by her side, as they made their way to the elevator. For just a moment, Bucky glanced back at them - Peter chatting animatedly about his favourite films to an amused looking Wanda - and tried to tamper down his smile. Those kids deserved the world and more and Bucky was gonna try his damn hardest to give it to them.

~*~

Bucky wasn’t exactly busy nowadays but it still felt a little odd to take a chunk of his time out on a Wednesday afternoon. Steve, having been around all week, had wandered off on his own for the day, leaving Bucky to watch Netflix in peace. It was a slow day, but relaxing, and gave Bucky time to plan what he’d do tonight. So when, with Steve in tow, he walked into the Tower, he had a game plan.

“When do you think you’ll be done?” Steve asked as they stepped into the elevator, Bucky heading for floor 63 and Steve for the top.

“No idea, pal. But not long enough for you and Tony to start a punch up.”

“So half an hour?”

“You’re a menace.”

“You know it.”

“I’ll tell JARVIS to relay a message when I’m finished.”

“Sounds good.”

“I’ll see you in a bit.”

“See ya, Buck.” The elevator doors opened onto a bland hallway, all white walls and dull grey carpet. It was easy enough to navigate, with signs pointing in the right direction and his memory from Saturday filling the gaps. When he reached room 636, he pushed the door open to find Wanda and Peter already inside, with a large whiteboard behind them with the Cyrillic alphabet. Peter was staring at it almost absently, his eyes a little wide and overwhelmed.

“It’ll get easier over time.”

“How did you learn so many languages? Can you speak, read _and_ write in all of them?”

“Most. Can’t write in Mandarin, or a few of the other Asian languages. Always had a problem with Thai, even speaking it. But definitely for all European languages and most of the Middle Eastern, African and South American ones too.”

“Wow.” Not that impressive, he wanted to point out, seeing as he’d just woken up knowing a lot of them, but even he had to admit that it took practice to keep a lot of them up, which is why he now spent a lot of his time mumbling things in different languages just to try and keep them fresh.

Everyone thought Steve was the old one but it was Bucky who did crosswords on a Sunday morning, in a different language each week.

Bucky took a seat next to Wanda, Peter opposite them and the whiteboard in-between. It was clearly a conference room, with a large oval table running the span of the room, with around fourteen chairs around it. Like the corridor, the walls were still a blank white and the floor grey, but it was broken by the decent quality of the wood, a thick plank in a pale beige with dark specks in it. Someone had decided to spend money on it, though he wondered who. Pepper wasn’t the type to spend money on needless expenses.

Tony?

The chairs were cheaper and dug slightly into his back but he was still glad for the space. There was nowhere else it would really be possible. Most places he knew of only had a single desk and definitely didn’t have the equipment for writing on any sort of ‘board’.

“Can you pronounce any of them?” Bucky asked, motioning to the board. Peter shook his head before stopping himself. “The ones that are the same as English, sure.”

“Such progress,” Wanda teased, a smile quirking the edges of her lips. There was a coffee in her hand, held by perfectly manicured nails. Someone was getting used to the Avengers' benefits.

“I think we should start with speaking rather than writing, then. It’ll only confuse you further.”

“But I’ve already written it on the board,” Wanda whined good-naturedly. Nothing in her posture said that she actually cared.

“You can teach Sokovian your way. I teach Russian my way.”

“Sure thing, _Bucky_.”

“What, you don’t like the name?”

“It’s a little…early 20th Century.”

“What do you want to call me then, Scarlet?”

“James sounds so much nicer.”

“James it is then, _Wanda_.”

“Tch,” she complained, taking a sip of her coffee to hide her smile.

“I can still call you Bucky, right?” Peter asked nervously.

“‘Course, Pete. The only other person who calls me James is Natasha.”

“Us Russian girls have sense.”

“You’re not even Russian.”

She shrugged. “Close enough.” She seemed to have completely forgotten her thirty-minute rant on how Sokovia was not Russia. Seemed that was only for when it was _convenient_.

Bucky huffed out a laugh and walked up to the board, “for that comment, I’m getting rid of this.” Then, rather embarrassingly, he tapped the board. It did nothing. Silence reigned for at least a minute before Wanda burst out laughing.

“I don’t get it,” Bucky said, tapping again.

Peter, clearly swallowing his own laughter, piped in: “do you not know how a whiteboard works, Bucky?”

“Well, I assumed it was like everything else in the future. If you tap it, you get a menu.”

“That’s technology.”

“So what’s this?”

“That’s a whiteboard.”

“Which is…?”

Peter took a second, his hand against his mouth, to try and tamper his smile. “It’s like a blackboard. But it uses erasable ink rather than chalk.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Wanda, still chuckling, said, “I’m never letting this go.”

“It’s not my fault!”

“Peter is teaching you physics!”

“Have you met Stark? Everything he owns is technology. It’s not my fault for assuming!”

“You don’t even live in the Tower,” Wanda pointed out, “that is not an excuse.”

“And you think I have a whiteboard in my apartment?”

Wanda shrugged. “It’s still funny.”

“Hmph. Do you have an eraser then?” Peter threw over a fuzzy bar and Bucky used it to slowly wipe away the ink, having a little fun with it. “These are much better than blackboards,” he said with a small smile. “There’s no shitty sounds.”

“Ugh, I can’t stand blackboards,” Wanda shuddered. “The sound, the feel, everything.”

“They’re kinda old-school, though, like retro-cool.”

“Retro is cool now?” Bucky asked. “Must be why I’m so popular.”

“You know like three people,” Wanda deadpanned.

“When did you gain a sarcastic streak?” Bucky asked, hands on his hips. “Is it Steve? Because I deal with enough of this on a daily basis.” Wanda laughed again, head thrown back and free, which was enough to settle Bucky’s frustration back to a simmering calm. “On _another_ note, let’s get Peter 'Russian'ed.”

“I’m pretty sure that is not a verb.”

“It is now.” And if Bucky’s smile was a little sinister, nobody pointed it out.

~*~

“My head is going to explode,” Peter mumbled as he left the room, bag slung over his shoulder. Wanda chuckled, her knees bundled up to her chest and her feet balanced precariously on the seat. She looked relaxed, her empty coffee cup balanced on her knees, chin balancing on the lid.

Bucky sat next to her, a small smile on his face but a curious look in his eye. “You alright?” He asked in Russian, as she didn't make a move to leave. Normally, she was the first to go, still a bit hesitant to stay behind with Bucky alone (he could understand that fear and refused to question the cause), but today she was just still, eyes staring pointedly out the windows in front of them, the evening light spilling over the horizon in a last-ditch effort for daylight.

“Thinking about him,” she murmured, keeping to the Russian. It was comfortable for both of them, and allowed them to converse in a way that still wasn’t quite accessible to her in English.

“Your brother?”

“Yes. His name was Pietro. I just keep thinking how much he would have loved it here-“ her face crumpled, creating wrinkles in his porcelain face, cracking the stony facade she so desperately tried to erect. Teary-eyed, her hands white-knuckled around her coffee cup, she tried to speak through a jerking sob. “He would have really liked you. And Peter. All of this.”

“What was he like?”

She took a moment to compose herself, taking in a shuddering breath that quivered through her lips. “Funny. Sarcastic. Loyal. An arsehole, through and through, but I loved him for it. He was a great brother, twin. He took care of me, and I took care of him.”

“You shouldn’t have lost him.”

“No, I shouldn’t have. And I do not forgive Stark for that. I’m not sure I ever will. But I can try and move on, for him.”

“It’s not been long, you have the right to feel it.” Bucky knew too much about trying to quell grief; it only made it last longer. It would always last, but it was better to get the agony out of the way and let the numbness seep through than try and let it out in bursts, breaking you at your seams as you fought to contain it.

“I know. I do. I just don’t want to lead my life to ruin. I want to do good.”

“How do you want to do it?”

“I want to help the Avengers. I want to stop Tony from doing something else he will regret. But I also want to finish school. Learn. Be more than what Hydra made me.”

“Me too,” Bucky whispered, letting just a corner of his sadness seep in. Bucky let the silence reign for longer, until he knew for certain that Wanda had no more words to say, before putting his own ideas forward. “You lost a lot that day. You lost your home. You lost your brother. I was thinking we could do a memorial. Just something small. Maybe some of his favourite foods, some traditional Sokovian recipes. Play some of his favourite songs. That sort of thing.”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course. I’d love to. And if I get some Sokovian food from it, all the better for me.”

Wanda smiled, teary-eyed but hopeful. “You’re good people, James Barnes.”

“So are you. You just need to start believing it.”


	5. Wanda III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last pre-written chapter comes out tomorrow! From there, each update should be every 3-4 days depending on inspiration, mood...etc.
> 
> For now, let's finish of Wanda's arc!  
> (Comments are still super, duper appreciated, thank you all!!! I'm doing my best now to actually reply to them!)

There was silence, short and poignant, before the explosion. Red travelled like electricity through Peter’s webs, creating a scarlet splattering throughout the gym. If Bucky wasn’t so focused on his own mission, he would have stared, agape, at the fireworks-like production. But he didn't have the time. Using the distraction whilst it lasted, he clambered up the climbing wall, using the quickest route to the top; memorised, after vigorous testing.

The battle raged on, with Peter shooting round after round, coating the gym's walls in the sticky chemicals of his webs, whilst Wanda let balls of scarlet tear through the flimsy material.

Bucky cased the room before cautiously making his way onto the rafters, ducking low and letting the natural darkness of the ceiling shadow him. His progress was slow but it didn't matter; Wanda and Peter were still steadfastly focused on each other.

Finally, with Peter throwing yet another spray of webs, Bucky had reached him and with preternatural calm, tagged him on the back.

“No fair!” Peter shouted immediately, spinning to where Bucky was now grinning. "I wasn't paying attention to you!"

"Exactly. Better luck next time."

"I'm out!" Peter called down to Wanda, hastily changing Wanda’s tactics. But Bucky was long gone, enveloped into the shadows again. Wanda wasn't a fool, though. She carefully made her way to her knees, hands pressed against the floor, and let her magic creep outwards, filling the room and scanning for foreign objects or things that weren’t in the right place. Anything moving.

It was usually a foolproof tactic, with the only downside being the vulnerable position she had to put herself in. To do this on the actual battlefield, she'd need someone at her six. Although, with her sudden chatter about Vision, Bucky had no doubt that she'd have someone looking out for her.

The thing was, they’d done this before and Bucky had already set up a distraction (moved a few pieces of the furniture, scattered the weights) and was crouching still behind the treadmill. He’d gone to Peter first for a reason. Despite his undeniable skill, he was a much easier target than Wanda.

It would only delay time, but that left Bucky with time to plan. An asset to any fighter. He scanned the room, watching as Peter quickly flew off the rafters, landing in an almost perfect position (nice going, Pete, you’re learning) and making his way over to the benches.

A minute passed, her magic almost touching the corners of the room and soon him. He had nothing. For the first time, in a long time, he had nothing. So, with that said, he went with the only available option left.

The Steve option.

He flew from his position and barrelled towards Wanda, using his speed and strength to his advantage and taking her by surprise. It would have worked if she was closer but as it was, the moment she spotted him, she put her hand up and tied him in place. “Gotcha,” she hissed with a smile, making her way over and tagging him on the chest. “I win.”

“This time. Well done, Scarlet. That was good.”

“Your plan? Not so much.”

“Not mine. I decided to implement the Captain America strategy. Barrel forward and hope no one is strong enough to defeat you.”

“It’s stupid.”

“ _Isn’t it?_ ” He commiserated, shaking his head fondly. "For the greatest strategist of his time, he sure was stupid."

“Hi, I’m Captain America,” Peter declared from the corner, his voice gruff. “Whether you’re in the classroom or on the battlefield, the difference between success and failure-“

“What?” Bucky asked, incredulous.

"What?" Peter defended. "Do you not know Rappin' with Cap?"

"Rapping with what?"

“No way! Have you not seen them?”

“No, should I have done?”

“Oh my god, you have to see these.” Peter rifled through his bag before his smile dropped, his hands going limp.

“What is it, Pete?”

“I can’t find my phone. Shit.”

“You think you just left it at home?”

“Probably. God, Aunt May is gonna be _pissed._ ”

“It’ll be fine. Still curious what these videos are, though.”

“Oh, I have an idea! JARVIS, can you project videos?”

“Yes, Mr Parker. And I have been requested by Mr Stark that if the ‘Rappin with Cap’ videos are ever to be played, to quote Sir, 'they must take up an entire wall and be projected to the masses'. I will interpret that, in this case, as all three of you and any of the Avengers who would like to attend.”

“That would be great, JARVIS. Thank you!”

“A pleasure, Mr Parker.” Quickly, one of the walls was taken up with a projection, a picture of Steve in his bad 2012 Cap Costume with tacky text surrounding it saying ‘this has been rappin’ with cap’ in gaudy America colours with an even more pretentious US flag in the background. The video didn't play, meaning they were clearly waiting for some others to arrive. Probably Tony, if he had been so intent on making these a spectacle.

But within a few seconds, the elevator doors opened and out stepped Steve (no other Avengers present) with a confused look on his face. “What’s going on- no, oh no. JARVIS, please. I’m begging of you.”

“JARVIS, I think you’re gonna need to press play,” Bucky ordered, folding his arms and watching the video.

“Hi, I’m Captain America, whether you’re a student or a soldier, there’s one thing that will always give you an edge, a hot lunch.” At that exact moment, Bucky _loses_ it. He hadn’t lost it like this since at least 1942. He was cackling, halfway to the ground with the force of it. Loud, abrasive and down-right ugly, Bucky couldn’t help but continue, all the way through until-

“So your body’s changing. Believe me, I know how that feels.” It was somehow worse this time. Steve was bright red, desperately standing against the projection like his towering body could cover _an entire wall_ , arms embarrassingly outspread. And Bucky practically rammed into him, arms around his waist and his laugh even louder. “Your body-“ he choked out, practically sobbing, “is changing. Oh my god, Stevie. Who made you do this?”

“They said it would be _educational._ ”

“So you went along with it? Damn, they really don’t know you. _At all_. How many of these did you do?”

Steve scowled. “Too many.”

“This is brilliant,” he gasped, “JARVIS, play it again.”

“NO!”

“As you wish, Mr Barnes.”

“JARVIS, show the 1972 documentary on Bucky Barnes!”

“What?”

“Are you sure? You placed this on your ‘no, not ever, don’t even let me ask for this’ list,” JARVIS said calmly.

“That was for me. I’m not going to be the one watching this.”

“I will play it after the current clip, Captain.” Steve harrumphed but accepted his fate, allowing Peter and Wanda to cajole him before angrily asking just how Peter knew about these. And after _that_ insight, realised he was going to have to have a talk with Pepper. These were supposed to be for _young_ kids, not teenagers! Elementary school kids!

Bucky finally stopped laughing as the final clip ended, Steve’s somewhat disgruntled voice catching in the last few seconds, and turned to Steve. “So, what’s this thing you got lined up?”

“You’ll see. JARVIS, are you able to show the best bits?”

“It depends what you mean by that, Captain.”

“I think you know.”

JARVIS made the closest equivalent he could to a sigh. “I most likely do, Captain.” Bucky had never heard a robot sound so disappointed.

The video started, a tacky introduction starting to play. Clips passed quickly over the screen, ones Bucky couldn’t really latch onto. They certainly weren’t familiar, although they were definitely _supposed_ to represent parts of his life. He assumed they’d paid actors to reenact some things but even then, they hadn’t exactly gone for…well, realism. For one, they were in 40s clothing, even in the scenes from his early life, and had definitively 70s haircuts. But it was over quickly and Bucky didn't want to assume much, so he waited patiently for the documentary to actually begin.

“Bucky Barnes was Captain America’s second in command, his aid, the man at his six. At a mere 16 to his Captain’s 24, he was a role model among young teenagers, garnering him national respect throughout the War effort.”

“What!” Bucky shouted indignantly. “I’m older than you,” he said to Steve, eyes bugging.

“Just wait for the next bit.”

The clip changed again. “There are even some sceptics about Barnes’ age, saying he might have been younger, hence his juvenile monicker ‘Bucky’.”

“HEY!”

“Told you so,” Wanda muttered.

The clip changed again. “It has been debated whether Barnes’ ‘sniper’ role ever existed. Some presumed he was not on the battlefield at all, working in a similar role to Captain America's at the very beginning of his career, when he toured with the USO. A mere figurehead, and a young one at that. Bright faced, charming, making up for a Captain now deep in the throes of warfare.”

Bucky turned to Steve, not daring to watch the next clip.

“What? Genuinely, _what was that?_ " Bucky hissed.

“They made a documentary on you in the 70s, clearly very misinformed on just about everything. I banned it from being in circulation about a year ago but plenty of people have seen it. So there are some…misconceptions about you.”

"So, they thought I was...what? No, this doesn't make sense. How the hell did they think I died? If I wasn't on the battlefield."

"It's honestly easier not to think about it."

"It's an abomination!"

“Anger’s bringing out your fancy words.”

“Damn right it is. This is…was this made by Hydra? I _bet_ it was made by fucking-“

“It was not made by Hydra. Believe me, I would have known. The guy who created it has since been slated for his very bad historical interpretation. Or possibly forgoing interpretation at all and going straight for fiction. But he’s old now, not much more you can do.”

“How old do I sound if I say I want to send him a strongly worded email?”

“Very.”

“Brilliant.”

And so he did.

The reply he got was oddly…calm. Clearly, the man felt no reason to repent for his sin. Which was enough for Bucky to keep up the correspondence (under the guise of a different name, of course) in an attempt to force some sort of apology out of this old man's mouth.

It never happened.

The man did not repent, but rather seemed pleased that he'd managed to shape Barnes' image to his own. Which only dragged the argument on longer and soon, throughout the course of everything that was to follow, Bucky bred a slow but spiteful friendship with the 80-something documentary maker. It kept Bucky busy. Steve never mentioned it.

And they never watched the documentary ever again.

(They did, however, repeat the Rappin’ with Cap videos numerous times. Bucky could now recite them all.)

~*~

"How about this Friday?" Bucky suggested lightly, once Peter had left their Wednesday lesson, just as exhausted as the week before. Bucky was wondering if there was a way to lighten up his workload; going straight from school into extra tuition was going to take its toll.

"For what?" Wanda asked, pushing her seat under the table, then did the same with Peter's.

"The memorial."

"Oh. That would be...that would be great."

"You sure?"

Wanda smiled. "Of course. You will help?"

"Wouldn't want to do anything else."

~*~

Wanda prepared most of the things for the memorial but Bucky helped as much as he could. It would be the two of them, Peter and a very tired looking Clint who attended. Steve would come later, after an exhausting press conference. He said he had to be there, despite his other arrangements, the weight of guilt still heavy on his shoulders after Ultron. And, like Bucky, Steve had struck a chord with Wanda, often finding themselves together at the tower. Steve was already seeing her as a sister of sorts, one he could have never had before (not even Becca, who never quite liked Steve as much as Bucky, if that was even possible). Wanda wasn’t any different, finding respite in Steve’s calming presence in the tumultuous tower.

Bucky almost found it funny, how Steve was Wanda’s calm when he was so clearly Bucky’s storm, but Bucky had long since learnt the duality of a person. He was the same. He could be Wanda’s stern mentor, her listening ear and confidant. And he could be Steve’s charming boyfriend, sometimes sullen but always bossy.

Then again, would it be wrong to say it was only together that Bucky and Steve were different? Something both old and new, so intertwined that it should have torn them apart. But it hadn’t. And hopefully it wouldn’t. Until the end of the line was a promise, and one he intended to keep.

It was on Friday night, as planned, long after the sun had set, a small lamp on in one corner casting dim light throughout the room. They were up in the Avengers' common room, with the food piled high on the coffee table, surrounded by over-priced sofas that were always less comfortable than you expected. But it was as cosy as they could make it and Wanda looked pleased with the outcome, even as she shifted the plates fussily so they looked perfect for the few guests in attendance.

Bucky was the first, having offered to help set up, except, well, “looks like you didn’t need me after all.”

“Sorry,” she murmured, “I was getting anxious waiting so I went ahead and started.”

“It’s fine,” he assured, laughing quietly, “saves me the effort. You did good, Scarlet. It looks great in here. It _smells_ great in here.”

“These are some of my favourites too," she said with a smile. It slipped a little too quickly. "It makes me miss home.”

“I know. But that’s what tonight is for.”

“Yes. And I should celebrate. Pietro would not stand for a sad ceremony.”

“He the kind of guy that would want everyone to wear rainbows to his funeral?”

Wanda laughed. “Maybe not _that_ far. But he would hate the tears. He hated to see me cry.”

“You think he’s watching?”

“I hope so. I really do.” Bucky smiled and wandered around the sofa, slinging an arm over Wanda’s shoulder. “I think he’s proud. You saved the world. Both of you did. And you shouldn’t forget that.” Wanda hummed noncommittally but let a wan smile perforate her lips.

Peter came next, eyes bugging at the sheer amount of food. “Oh my god, this is amazing!” He said cheerfully before coughing awkwardly. “I mean, I’m really sorry, Wanda.”

“You can be excited. This is a party of sorts after all.”

“It’s just _so much_ food.”

“I made sure to cook extra. You enhanced people eat a lot, don’t you?”

“I mean, I do, I don’t know about-“

“Me, not so much," Bucky interrupted, "I can survive on whatever. But _Steve_ -“

“Is Bucky lying about how much he eats again?” Clint said as he strode in, ignoring Bucky’s glare. “Sorry, man, I may have never seen you eat but I’ve heard Steve’s stories.”

“He’s a liar.”

“Captain America doesn’t lie.”

“Then you’re stupid,” he shot back, before smiling. “Good of you to come, Clint.”

“Had to. I was there when the kid…” Clint choked but tried so hard to keep the smile on his face. “I’m gonna miss him. Felt right to come along and remember him.” Wanda was smiling, melancholy yet hopeful, from underneath Bucky’s arm. Other than Steve and Bucky, Clint was probably the only other adult in her life. And unlike the super soldiers, Clint was more likely to hold the ‘dad’ position. Not in any traditional sense but he was definitely more of the rule provider (mostly consisting of not following Stark's rules), being the only one who was around the Tower unless out on a mission. Clint was the one who got Wanda moving when she didn’t think she could. And he was the only other one who missed Pietro, even if it didn’t even scrape the surface of the loss Wanda felt.

Bucky had barely talked to the guy (had barely talked to any of the Avengers, honestly, although Wanda was definitely making his presence less of a shock) but he liked him. Respected him, even. And he could, like all the Avengers, take an insult on the chin and laugh. Bucky always respected that.

“That’s all of us for now then.” At Wanda’s questioning look, he continued, “Steve’s got a press conference that he couldn’t miss but he’ll be here straight after.”

“Should we begin?”

“Go ahead. You got a plan?”

“Well…” she trailed off, looking into the distance. “I guess, I just wanted to talk about him a bit, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. We allowed to eat the food at the same time?”

She laughed. “You enhanced men have a one-track mind. I’m starting to think Clint is right.” Bucky smirked but sat down on one of the sofas, Peter taking the place next to him, whilst Clint and Wanda sat opposite. (Which would make it embarrassingly clear, by the end of the night, just which pair was eating more.)

They tried to keep the good humour up, but all were painfully aware of the cracks in Wanda’s voice as she retold childhood memories, rife with the sibling contention and love he remembered in the few fragments he had left of Becca.

It hurt to think about, but it was hurting less. He was selfishly glad that he didn’t remember more of her. It made the pain easier. It made all of it easier.

Clint piped in when he could, but his stories were slim and predominantly common knowledge. Wanda took charge, letting them be content with the array of foodstuffs (all cooked perfectly from scratch).

“And Pietro, being as dumb as he is…was…he…he thought that telling them a joke would resolve it. Of course it didn’t. He was an idiot. But it got them away from me, and that was all he cared about. He-“ The elevator doors open and a weary Steve trudged through, still in his Captain costume, although certain parts had been dismantled (mostly ornaments like his weapons belt). “You came.” Wanda smiled, beckoning him over, before frowning. “You should have changed. You look uncomfortable.”

“I’m fine. I didn’t want to miss any more.” Wanda looked torn between worried and pleased but finally realised that she wasn’t going to be able to move Steve’s position, as stubborn as he was, and let him sit on the armrest by Bucky, leaning in just slightly so Bucky’s head was leaning against his torso. To the rest, it probably looked like they were barely touching but the mere brushing contact was enough to reassure both of them nowadays. (Better than the early days, where they clung to each other like koalas, constantly fearful that the other one was going to leave, likely felt more keenly by Steve. When combined with their fear of being spotted in public, it had made for some interesting arrangements).

Wanda finished her story but it seemed the arrival of Steve had brought out something new. Peter and Wanda both couldn’t drink yet but somehow ended up with a beer in their hands (okay, that was totally Bucky, but come on, they had literally killed people, they could handle a beer. It wasn’t like he was giving them straight spirits). Steve couldn’t get drunk so was guzzling ginger beer like an upper-class English schoolboy whilst Bucky was trying his hardest to get drunk on a bottle of whiskey. Clint seemed to be the only one able to get drunk, although he was definitely moderating himself for the rest of the group. However, even the low buzz was enough to change the mood, as they traded barbs and compliments, profusely admiring Wanda’s cooking skills, even if Steve - latecomer he was - had missed out on many of the dishes.

Wanda was smiling widely by the end, with Peter on her lap (lightweight) begging for her to cook him some more of ‘those potato things. Those…the…the... _really_ good ones.’ Clint was on the floor, groaning innocuously at unexpected intervals. Bucky and Steve were sequestered in the corner, with Steve glaring at Bucky for causing the chaos whilst Bucky - now at least tipsy - got touchy-feely.

“Okay, I’m wrapping this up,” Steve announced. “I need to get this one home and _you_ ,” he pointed at Peter, “are going to stay with Wanda because I am not explaining this to Aunt May.”

“She won’t mind,” Peter slurred, even though they all knew she really, _really_ , would. Wanda, who only had a small flush on her cheeks, nodded and started dragging Peter to her suite - two bedrooms, luckily. Clint was mumbling something under his breath but took off without complaint.

All in all, it was perfect.


	6. MJ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a day late! Inspiration seems to have disappeared (lockdown fun and all). I'm about half way through the next chapter so hopefully that will be up in two-three days. For now, enjoy the newest addition to our little story!
> 
> (Also, this has no become one of my most popular fics ever so just a huge, huge thank you to everyone. I love hearing feedback and grateful to all of you for it. Feel free to leave love or criticism below!)

“No, no, nonononononono-“ Peter stared down at his phone, clutched so tightly in his hand that Bucky was sure it was cracking at the edges. Wanda came up behind him, hovering over his shoulder for about two seconds before she cracked up laughing (oddly witch-like, unsettlingly). 

“What is it?” Bucky asked.

Neither of them answered. Bucky decided he didn’t want to know.

~*~

Peter woke up on Saturday morning with a headache that he knew was going to last until the end of the day. He’d slept just fine and he couldn’t exactly get ill anymore, it was just one of those days where the anxiety messed with his head. 

Today was his trip to Stark Industries.

His whole physics class was attending, leading Peter into the jaws of death with no thought to his mental well-being. Peter had gotten the email last Friday. Or rather he’d gotten a forwarded email from Aunt May with her own response at the top, telling him she’d already signed him up and he should use it as an opportunity to make new friends. And maybe, possibly, if he had the time, give Tony that last push into giving him that internship.

Which would have been fine, really, if it hadn’t been for everything else. Starting from the beginning:

  1. No one was on a mission today.
  2. Absolutely everyone was at the Tower, even Thor.
  3. This was his physics class so Flash would be involved.
  4. This was his training day with Bucky and Wanda and they were expecting him an hour before the trip ended.
  5. He didn’t even get to miss school for this.
  6. By the end of the day, his whole class was going to figure out he was Spiderman. Reasons predominantly listed above.



He was in shambles. 

That wasn’t going to get him out of the trip, though.

“Peter!” May shouted. “You ready?”

“Yeah, coming,” he shouted back, probably sounding a little too wistful for a fifteen-year-old. He left his room, head hung low like he was walking to the gallows, tired shoulders drooping him forwards. 

“Stop looking like that. This is exciting.”

“It’s really not. This is not going to go well.”

May tutted. “So pessimistic. Chin up,” she flicked him on the chin, “it’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know them, May. They’re awful.”

“You do realise you’re talking about the Avengers, right?”

“Exactly! Tony is going to interrupt the tour and Bucky is going to ask me why I’m not at training and Steve’s 100% going to make a grandpa joke at me.”

“Be glad Captain America’s joking with you at all.”

Peter sighed. “I guess…”

“Seriously, Peter. They’re good people, they’re not going to blow your cover.” Notably, she didn’t mention them embarrassing him. “Most of them don’t even want you fighting, never mind drawing the bad guys to you.” May looked worried herself, the corners of her lips just slightly downturned. It was a common expression nowadays. She was still suffering from her loss and Peter was only making it worse. He should talk to Bucky about that; he knew a lot about being a burden. No, no, that sounded bad. Just…Bucky knew how it felt. Well, Peter was pretty sure anyway. Bucky was a little closed off about his own past, probably for good reason, but he was honest. 

Peter wanted to be like that one day. Honest, that was. Now he felt like he spent his whole life lying.

“I guess…”

“Trust me. Now, come on, you’re going to be late.” Peter had to meet his class at school by 9am and from there, they’d take the bus into Manhattan and get dropped off a block away from Stark Tower.Then the itinerary was simple: a few tours, a few lectures and some lab time. Little room for error.

Except that Peter knew the Avengers and they were nothing if not creative.

Which is why he hadn’t told them.

(But would JARVIS rat him out…?)

He needed to stop thinking about it.

He swung to school, or rather two blocks away, just to shave off time, stuffing his web-shooters and mask into his backpack before jogging past the school gates, where at least 90% of the class was already waiting. At least he wasn’t the last.

“Peter, over here!” He would recognise that voice anywhere, never mind the fact that Ned was waving his arms like a lunatic. It pushed a small smile onto Peter’s lips, despite his lingering fears.

“Hey, Ned. You good?”

“Yeah, man. Excited as hell. I mean, Stark Industries?! That shit’s crazy.”

“Yeah, it is,” Peter said, a little half-arsed but with enough enthusiasm that Ned was more likely to write it off as exhaustion than aversion. Peter loved politeness; it was the best way to keep a cover. Bucky agreed with him and everything. And if Bucky agreed with you, you knew you were right.

“MJ’s staring at us again.”

“She is?” Peter had found himself looking at MJ a lot more since Liz left. There wasn’t anything there, it was just…

Oh, who was he kidding? She was funny. A bit creepy, but in the way that was far more attractive than it needed to be. At least he’d latched onto another person that was far away and would never deem speak to him anyway. Only stare, apparently. But imagine if he crushed on  _ Wanda _ . He’d be a mess. And he really didn’t need that in his life.

“Yeah. You should talk to her, if you know what I mean.”

“Ned!”

“What?! She’s totally looking at you.”

“She’s just…examining me.”

“And that makes a difference?”

“Of course it makes a difference! It’s not like she’s admiring me or anything. She just keeps on tabs on everyone. She’s…observant.”

“That kinda sounds like a stalker.”

“MJ is not a stalker!” He argued, a little too loudly. She hastily looked away from him, eyes trained to the ground and Peter had the urge to dig a huge hole in the ground, bury himself in it and slowly suffocate to death. 

“Dude!” Ned hissed.

“I know!” Peter replied, his face tomato-red, burying his head in his hands. “Oh my god, I want to die.”

“Okay, everyone!” Ms Warren called out, standing next to a nervous-looking Mr Harrington (that man didn’t have a life, did he? He came on  _ every _ school trip), “get on the bus, we’ll be leaving in five!”

Trying to forget just about everything that had happened in the last five minutes, and hoping the rest of the day wouldn’t follow suit, Peter got on the bus, taking one of the seats in the third row with Ned beside him.

“Aw, how come you always get the window?”

“Guess I’m just faster,” Peter said with a shrug, his eyes glued on MJ, who had conspicuously taken the row of two seats next to them, her legs propped up on the second seat so she was looking right at Peter, her notebook in her lap and a pencil in hand. As soon as he caught her eye, she blushed and shut her notebook, turning to the front of the bus.

Has she been…drawing him?

“Peter!” Ned called out, waving a hand in front of his face. “You gonna come back to the living any time soon?”

“Sorry, sorry. I was just…”

“Staring at MJ, yeah, I get it.”

“Sorry.”

“No worries, man. You should really talk to her.”

“I-“

“Role-call, everyone!” Mr Harrington called out as Ms Warren took her seat in the front row, purposefully putting her bag down on the seat next to her. Huh.

They went through the monotonous task of calling out names, the exact same way they did every day (couldn’t they just do it backwards one day or something?) before finally setting off towards Manhattan. It would take the better part of 50 minutes to get there, meaning they were left with a bunch of antsy fifteen/sixteen-year-olds (of which Peter was freshly one, with a birthday party in the making).

Ushered from the bus, they were made to crowd around the entrance for another ten minutes before the teachers finally managed to convince the receptionist that their trip actually existed, which was where the first part of the day went wrong.

Quite majorly.

“Mr Parker,” JARVIS said, his speakers directed only at Peter but still loud enough to draw the attention of his whole class and even a few of the staff (who definitely recognised him but were nice enough not to call him out. He even knew Marie well: an ambitious 25-year-old receptionist looking to promote herself from the inside). “Sir would like to ask why you are hanging around in the lobby for so long and why you haven’t just come to the labs yet. And also why you are here on a Saturday morning. Unless your sessions have been moved.” JARVIS knew full well he was on a school trip and would have relayed that to Tony immediately.

Tony had done this on purpose.

“Um, sorry, not now, JARVIS,” he muttered, hoping his classmates wouldn’t notice. It was a futile effort. Muttering filled the room, broken only by Flash’s indignant “of course that wasn’t for him! Parker could never!”

“Sir would like to reiterate that you shouldn’t be hanging around the lobby when you can just come straight up.”

“JARVIS!” Peter hissed.

“I have re-informed Sir that you are, in fact, here with your school. He has apologised for his behaviour,” he hadn’t, “and hopes you have a great day.” Peter was going to kill him.

Except he wasn’t.

Because he really wanted that internship.

If it hadn’t been given away already.

Which it should have been.

But Tony had made no mention of it.

So…

No, he couldn’t get his hopes up.

But what would Bucky say…?

“Peter?” Crap, that was Mr Harrington.

“Yes?”

“Do you work for  _ Tony Stark _ ?”

“Um…yes. I mean, I’m training. I’m hoping to get an internship position. And he…yeah, just an intern.” Clearly, nobody believed him. MJ was staring at him, eyes narrowed, and she kept looking at his hands. Or maybe his wrists. Like she was searching for something. Mr Harrington hummed but didn’t pry, leading them towards their tour guide instead. 

Peter had clearly let his guard down because when he looked up, he almost jumped out of his skin. Right there, with a bright blonde wig and the aura of a tour leader, was Natasha Romanoff, aka Black Widow. She looked small and unassuming, if that was even possible. Peter was pretty sure the Avengers weren’t hiding a shrink ray anywhere. 

No one seemed to notice the Black Widow was leading their tour group.

He was going to  _ kill _ Tony.

“Hi, everyone!” Natasha said, her voice pulled almost obnoxiously high, with just a hint of upper-class privilege. “I’m going to be your tour guide today. Hope everyone’s excited!” At least ten people were looking at each other, commiserating over the enthusiasm of their tour guide. Even in a place like Stark Tower, most people weren’t pleased to be in a school environment on a Saturday.

Why couldn’t they have missed school for this?”

“Our first stop is your first lecture of the day. Just a note, there’s been a bit of a mix up with the itinerary so instead of,” she looked at her clipboard, “Dr Chandra, you will now be listening to a talk by Dr Banner. Don’t worry, it’s still on magnetism.” What? That wasn’t even Bruce’s field of expertise. Were they really this desperate to ruin Peter’s day?

He groaned; of course they were.

The class followed her, with Peter and Ned at the front. Peter was trying to find a way to get Natasha’s attention without the interference of those surrounding him and was failing miserably. He wondered how she’d managed to get this position so fast, seeing as Tony mustn’t have found out more than fifteen minutes ago. Maybe she knew before? It didn’t make much sense, though; Natasha and Peter had never been particularly close, although they did run into each other fairly regularly, so there was no reason for her to keep a close eye on him.

Unless she thought they were close. Peter blanched. Did Natasha think they were friends? In that case, Peter really needed to step up his game. And probably discuss the whole argument thing, although that had been a month ago now. She had definitely sided with Tony and was liable to calling him irresponsible where she could.

(Both were happening more and more nowadays. Worrying.)

They reached the lecture hall with plenty of time, giving the students time to argue over seating arrangements, and just enough time for Peter to corner Natasha by the door, out of view of everyone except…MJ. Great. At least she wasn’t close enough to hear him, although she probably thought he was a creep, trying to corner their female tour guide against a door.

If only she knew what Natasha could do to him.

“What the hell!” He hissed.

“What?”

“Nat, this isn’t funny.”

A smirk dragged her lips, her facade slipping with ease. “Of course it is. We just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Who?”

“Well, Tony just informed everyone in the Tower that you were on a  _ school trip _ . I couldn’t believe my luck. And then your lovely tour guide had to go home to a family emergency and the slot just needed to be filled.”

“Did you-“

“Of course not. Complete coincidence.” He didn’t trust that voice. Of course, Natasha was a good guy, she wouldn’t have done anything bad. Still, tampering with people’s lives was…bad. 

“Who’s in the Tower?”

“Everyone except Steve and Bucky. Wanda admitted that she already knew. Don’t know why she didn’t just tell us.”

“Because she’s  _ nice _ .”

“Aw, we’re just making sure there’s no funny business.”

“There’s not going to be any-,” Natasha’s eyes were on Flash, “who told you?”

“JARVIS.”

“That’s confidential!”

“Mr Parker. Under Sir’s orders, I am to pass over any information that contains a threat towards you.” Goddamit, his class were staring at him again, at least a dozen of them looking more than confused.

Natasha smirked. 

“I hate you all.”

“No you don’t,” Natasha sing-songed, before exiting the room and leaving Peter to find Ned in the now-darkness and ignore the lingering stares of his classmates. Broken only when Dr Banner took his place on the stage, his eyes immediately drawn to Peter.

Nothing happened.

If Peter was asked, he would admit to being surprised. After the morning he’d had, he really expected all sorts of hell. All he got were a few cursory looks and a really out of place joke that fell flat on everyone else but had Peter stuffing his fist into his mouth. And then it was over, and he was no worse for it, apart from the inevitable boredom that came with listening to someone talk about a subject you already understood, especially when they clearly weren’t made to talk on stage in front of school kids. 

That’s why they had  _ entertainers _ and didn’t just get any old professor on stage. Sixteen-year-olds got  _ bored _ , and they all left the hall bleary-eyed as Ms Warren tried convincing them that the next one would be more interesting and at least, despite everything else, it had been very informative.

Still, everyone perked up a bit when Natasha came back to the head of the group, clapping her hands and getting their attention with almost frightening competency. “Okay, everyone. We’ve got some time until your next talk so we’re going to have a look around the labs!” A quiet murmur of excitement ran throughout the group, hushed only when Natasha led them into the large guest elevator, taking them up in two separate groups (although Natasha was somehow always with Peter, no matter whether he was at the back or front). 

“Okay, everyone, welcome to the 70th floor. This is where a lot of the interns work, mostly on prototypes that Mr Stark has put aside. This keeps Stark’s ideas alive whilst delegating projects so as many can be completed as possible.” There’s a general murmur again from their class when, louder than the rest, Flash told his friend: “see how dumb it is? Of course Peter wouldn’t be an intern here. It’s like…prestigious and shit.”

“Peter! Are you up for an internship position here?” As if Natasha didn’t know already.

“Um, maybe. Well, it’s not very likely. I’m younger than the recommended age and…”

“You’ve got it, kid.” The whole class turned at once, like a gaggle of penguins following the scent of food. Except Tony Stark wasn’t food. He was…well, he was Tony Stark. And he’d just given Peter the internship.

“What?” Peter said inelegantly.

“I said you got it. Except you’re not working here; you’ll be working up in my labs but that’s semantics. See you later! Oh, and the Avengers say hi.” Without sticking around to see the chaos, Tony got back into the elevator and flew back up to the top floor, leaving Peter to semi-hyperventilate in peace.

Well, maybe not so much peace.

Both his teachers were shouting their congratulations, whilst Peter stared wide-eyed at the wall, a smug-looking Natasha leaning against the wall with her arms crossed against her chest. 

“Peter doesn’t know the Avengers!” Flash claimed but even his friend looked doubtful. 

“Tony Stark literally just said he did,” the friend said - Aaron, right? Which, well, if this internship gained him a little respect at school, he wasn’t going to throw that away. 

Peter still wasn’t moving. Ned was gaping at him and MJ had taken a spot a little closer to him, her expression stuck somewhere between worry and awe. The rest of his class were all whispering, heads tucked inwards, awe written onto their features. And jealousy, but that meant Peter would have to accept that there was something to be jealous of.

He got the internship.

He got the internship!

“I got the internship,” he gasped, eyes catching on Ned’s. “I actually got it. And Tony Stark just told me personally.”

“You’re going to be in  _ his labs _ .” Peter didn’t mention how that had been happening anyway. He’d been tinkering around in there for a while, mostly on Spiderman stuff, but now he was going to be  _ working _ there. He even got some money for it! Not much, that was for sure, but enough to have some spending money on the side and helping his Aunt where he could. Since Uncle Ben…you know, it had been a lot harder for them to cover costs.

“I am.”

“Wow.”

“I  _ am _ .”

“Okay, everyone, despite this very exciting news, I think we need to get to the rest of the tour.” Peter would have thanked Natasha, if not for the fact that he was still  _ mad as hell _ . All would have been calm if not for the rest of his class taking a sudden interest in the nerds. People were crowding around Peter, so much so that Ned had been pretty much ostracised to the edge of the group. Fighting through the hoards, he noticed that MJ had taken a spot next to him.

Did she not want to talk to him?

Maybe she really hated Stark and thought that he was giving in to the capitalist machine and that he was going to be building bombs and-

No, he needed to stop overthinking things. This was just…

It was just going to be a long day.

The tour went on slowly. At least six people asked him if he could get them in contact with the Avengers. Another three wanted Tony Stark’s phone number (which Peter did actually have but he wasn’t going to give it out). One guy asked if he’d met Black Widow with the usual leeriness of a teenage boy, which made Peter suppress a smile.

If only any of them cared to look a little closer at their tour guide.

Apart from the sudden condition of his new fandom, the lab tour was fairly basic. Nothing particularly interesting but had enough unique-looking machines that his classmates could fawn over. 

Then there was the next lecture, luckily not interrupted with any surprise guests, yet not any more interesting than the last. The guy had clearly been a little more prepared but was still suffering from the problem of having to explain concepts he’d pretty much debunked in college to a bunch of high school Sophomores. Peter felt for him, he really did.

Then came the best part of the day: lunch. An hour-long respite where he could eat in peace. Although at this rate, the likelihood of classmate harassment was at pretty much 100%. Still, he sequestered himself in a corner with Ned, hoping that no one would spot him for at least the first 20 minutes in the sprawling cafeteria (how many people worked here?). He had no such luck - or maybe all the luck - when he was approached in a mere five.

“Hey, Peter.”

“MJ?!”

“Can I sit here?”

“Um, yeah, of course. I mean, yeah.” So much for looking cool, dude. Ned was frantically giving him ‘the eye’ which was about as successfully subtle as Tony Stark announcing to his entire class that he had  _ gotten the internship _ .

Oh god, he had to text May.

“Thanks,” she said, awkward yet calm in the way that all girls seemed to be, taking the seat next to him with her own tray of food. 

“Um, so, what are you doing here? I mean, not that I don’t  _ want _ you to be here or anything, it’s just that-“

“Just thought I’d sit with you guys,” she said casually, taking a bite of her meal with an indecipherable look in her eye.

“Oh, okay. That’s…nice.”

“Yeah, that’s great,” Ned interrupted, a big smile on his face; a brilliant distraction from Peter’s fumbling, if only MJ would look away from him. Why was she staring at him? Was there something on his face? There was definitely something on his face. Surreptitiously wiping his face on his sleeve, he looked back up at her. She was still staring, although there was a small smile quirking her lips.

“Well done on the internship,” she finally said, elbow resting on the table with her drink held lazily in her hand. If only Peter could look that casual; as of right now, he was pretty sure he was sitting ramrod straight like a 1920s schoolboy (ask Bucky if that was an actual thing, he noted) with his hands neatly folded in his lap and his eyes desperately trying to find something interesting to land on that  _ wasn’t _ MJ. Or Ned, who was looking at the whole confrontation with the avid attention Peter had only seen when Aunt May was watching the Bachelor. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled around his food, before chastising himself for even trying to eat. Who looked flattering whilst eating? And did he just speak with food in his mouth? Wasn’t that, like, rule number one on do not do in front of a first date. Except this wasn’t a date, was it? Was it?!

“So, how’d you really get it?”

“What?”

She narrowed her eyes. “You really want me to believe that Tony Stark gave you the internship personally just because of the resume you handed in? Also, I looked it up. You have to be 18 to get an internship position here, and it definitely doesn’t include working with Iron Man.” Peter just stared. “What? I did my research. So, what was it? You being friends with the Avengers?” Something in her eyes screamed knowledge he wasn’t privy to. She knew something, he just wasn’t sure what. It was enough to break him from the awkwardness, although the embarrassed fear remained a constant.

“There was an intro course. I snuck in under a false age. JARVIS, his AI, saw my potential and told Mr Stark to come watch me. I’ve been talking with him since then.” It was a lie, but barely. Tony had, in fact, been very much impressed and it was JARVIS who often called him down to look at Peter’s work. But it was his position as Spiderman, not a fictional ‘intro course’, that had got Peter the chance in the first place. 

“When was that?”

“Um…a few months ago?”

MJ hummed noncommittally but left the topic alone, opening her notebook and starting to scribble what could easily be words or pictures down on the page. She looked focused, though, so Peter tried to ignore the fluttering in his gut and turned to Ned to talk about his new lego set (one of the Minecraft ones because, yes, he was unapologetically a nerd). He didn’t even notice when MJ finally finished, writing in large capitals: SPIDER-MAN?


	7. MJ II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much longer chapter than usual today (pretty much two chapters long)! Makes me glad I didn't try and combine all of the school trip into one chapter (no one needs that to be almost 10,000 words long). Hopefully subscription emails are up and working again so this goes through. With that, just a warning, I would check if the last chapter was actually the last one you read (I have already been caught out on this once XD)
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)  
> (and as ever thank you for all the comments so far and any in the future, each puts a smile on my face)

Lunch finished far too soon, with JARVIS gathering them back at the meeting point to get to their next lecture promptly. “I think you’re going to love this one, guys,” Natasha announced, her voice pitched higher with each second. More and more, she was beginning to sound like a summer camp leader rather than their tour guide (and still somehow managed to keep the boys staring at her). “Again, there’s been a little bit of a switch about. This is still an astronomy lecture but rather than Professor Baines, you’re going to have a surprise guest!”

Peter already knew what was coming. And although he wanted to freak out, he was clever enough to keep it inside; he wouldn’t give Natasha the pleasure of seeing him smile. Not even at the thought of getting told about space by a literal  _ alien _ .

Natasha quickly ushered them into the lecture hall, somehow managing to mould the queue so Peter ended up at the back, again. His class poured in regardless, leaving Peter alone at the back, faced with a smirking Natasha. “You know,” she said, before leaning into his ear, “you look like a puppy when you frown.” Oh great! Just  _ great _ . 

Before he could find any suitable comeback, she’d shoved him into the room and slammed the doors behind her, a surreptitious wave his last view before he was faced with an up-close view of the wood. 

He was so done with today.

Now stuck between scowling - which was apparently entirely ineffectual - and trying to tamper any expression at all, he shoved his way into the aisle, where Ned and MJ sat together in the front row, devoid of others (even a surprise wasn’t enough to drag teenagers out of the back row). Ned kept taking cursory glances at MJ but her back was turned, talking to Betty in the row behind in a low murmur, when Peter finally took his seat.

“Did MJ choose to sit here?” Peter whispered, following Ned’s eyes.

“Yeah. She must  _ really _ like you, man, because she keeps looking for you and stuff.” Peter blushed and tried to push away his hindbrain screaming “YES!” and took the more logical approach. “I don’t think it’s that.”

“Then what?”

“I have no idea.” Their discussion was cut short when the chatter around them started to fade and the speaker walked out onto the stage. Voices picked up immediately: frantic whispers with an embarrassing amount of flailing. 

Thor was pretty imposing up close, yet there was something worse about it when you watched him from afar, like you were finally made aware of just how big his presence was. Like, Peter knew him and all (they’d met once) but for the first time, Peter was seeing Thor for what he actually was: a god. 

His presence was looming and even at metres distance, it felt like he was right there next to you. Which was almost comical, really, seeing as Thor wasn’t even in battle gear. He had a black hoodie on and some stone-washed jeans, neither of which hid just how  _ big _ he was. His hair was long but tied back, a neat plait running down the side of the ponytail. Peter wondered who had done it. Nat? Wanda?  _ Bucky? _

“Hello, Midgardian children!” Thor announced, a pleasant smile on his face. “And Peter. I’m sorrowful that you could not attend our festivities today so I decided to aid you and your shield mates in your path to knowledge.” Oh, dear God, Peter was going to melt into his seat.

Could he?

God, please? No, not God. Thor  _ was _ a god. 

The murmuring got even worse; even the teachers were now conferring, giving Peter obtusely long glances as he sunk further and further into his seat. His face was bright red for sure, maybe it was even worse. Maybe it was as purple as it used to be back when he’d done sports (before the goddamn spider bite, of course).

See, universe? School trips  _ never _ ended well.

He genuinely didn’t know which was weirder: getting bitten by a spider and turning into a mutant or Thor personally calling him out in a lecture in front of his schoolmates. Thor barrelled on regardless. “I do not know your curriculum so I will start from the basics,” he said, his charm almost ethereal. Nothing he did or said was even particularly different; it was just as if you could sense he was an alien, and couldn’t stop smiling for it.

He was a surprisingly good speaker, even if the topics he covered were a little too hard. But he was good at using layman’s terms and even a few Earth references. It was funny how someone so desperate to enrich themselves with the culture ended up being better at it than the people who’d been a part of it their whole lives. It was more and more obvious that even if his public speaking training came from Asgard, it could just as easily be manoeuvred to Earth. And they said  _ Loki  _ was the silver-tongued brother. Peter didn’t ever want to meet him).

His class was enraptured. Whether they were looking at his muscles, hair or just blown away by his actual intelligence (Thor was often placed as a dunce, mostly due to his inevitable faux-pas when he didn’t quite understand the culture divide), his class couldn’t seem to look away. Peter was sure that at least 90% of the class sounded disappointed when Thor made his concluding point.

Still, the lecture had started the afternoon on a good note, keeping the energy from plummeting and allowing the teachers to herd them out with little fuss. Even the teachers were pleased with it, seeing as it had actually been informative enough that they’d taken notes (likely for the higher years) and seemed pleased with the outcome as a whole. 

They all left the hall buzzing and genuinely intrigued as to what the next phase would bring. The original itinerary, now obliterated, told them that their final hour was going to be in the labs again. Peter was a little scared of what it could have been replaced with.

Because, no doubt, it had been replaced by something.

“I hope you enjoyed that!” Natasha cheered. “Now, for the final hour, we’re going to give you a little bit of a more comprehensive tour of the Tower. The offices, the gym facilities, the conference rooms and more. See a little bit of what people get up to on different floors. Stark Industries is a wide and varied organisation that deals with a myriad of different markets so there’s plenty to see.” Now that was  _ definitely _ from a brochure. Peter was sure he’d actually read that somewhere. “We’re going to start on the basement levels so please follow me into the elevator and if the second group could press B2, that would be great.”

Peter knew exactly what was on B2: the gym. Hurriedly, he checked his phone, thanking whatever there was up there that both teachers had ended up with the other group. He was  _ not _ getting his phone confiscated on top of all this. It was only just past two o’clock. Which meant he was supposed to be meeting Bucky and Wanda…now. Great. 

The gym would be safe for now, though. Since Bucky had made the executive decision that all lessons had to happen before exercise for the sake of his clothes (and he wouldn’t mention it to them, but the teenage BO), they usually didn’t get to the gym until at least an hour from now. That may have been cut down by the fact that Peter, for the first time, was committing truancy but it should have still given him at least fifteen minutes. Enough for his class to have a look and for him to get  _ the hell out of there _ . 

So he should have been safe. Forgoing the possibility that his phone would explode with messages from Wanda. Bucky had yet to take Peter’s number but would no doubt steal Wanda’s phone to interrogate him. Wouldn’t be the first time.

As usual, should was the operative word.

When the elevator doors opened, the whole class got an absolutely perfect view of Captain America - skimpy top, shorts and all - lifting 300lb weights.

Someone cleared their throat, although Peter didn’t know who (his bets were on Natasha). “SHIT!” Steve shouted, clearly startled, dropping the impossibly heavy weights and catching them just an inch from his chest. If he weren’t a super-soldier, he would have been crushed, completely unable to maintain the angle he was holding the weights at, but clearly this wasn’t even near his limit and he pushed the set back up and onto the bar, turning with a glare. “Nat what- oh. Hi, Peter. Who are…the people?” He asked inelegantly, pushing himself upwards with a wince before he stood up and took a spot in the middle of the gym, arms folded against his chest, clearly caught off guard and at least just as embarrassed. He wasn’t red, not like when Peter had shown Bucky the Rappin’ with Cap videos, but he was certainly defensive, his posture making Peter think he was seeing exactly what Bucky was talking about when he said Steve was a ‘scrappy little punk’. 

Peter didn’t know what to say; he was frozen on the spot, practically paralysed. “Um, Bucky’s waiting upstairs for you,” Steve tried, as if that was going to make the situation any better. Someone laughed quietly in the crowd ( _ definitely _ Natasha, who Steve had clearly not actually spotted yet). “Please don’t tell me he’s expanding his class size.”

“Oh, no. This is…I’m on a school trip.”

“A school trip…”

“Yeah…”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were going to be here today, I would have gone somewhere else.” Well, at least someone would have, Peter thought. “Has everyone else been bothering you? I can get them to stop.”

“Bit too late for that,” Peter muttered. 

“Sorry, kid. Well, hi Peter’s class! I apologise for my teammates. We see Peter a lot around the tower and they’re just trying to be embarrassing.” Of all the people Peter thought was going to make this better, he really hadn’t expected it to be Steve. Shitty, sarcastic Steve who stirred trouble wherever he could.

Clearly, he’d been the first to see that Peter’s face had moved on from embarrassed to down-right mortified. 

Finally, in the silence, his classmates muttered, “did Captain America swear?” A cacophony of whispers spread throughout the group and a dangerous flush appeared on Steve’s cheeks but he didn’t say anything. (Self-martyrdom was his skill and if them whispering about him meant they weren’t whispering about Peter, all the better for it.) Still, it was inevitable when someone finally asked, “who’s Bucky?”

Steve flinched, but his mask was good - he’d had media training, obviously. Natasha winced too, although hers was more empathetic than pained. “Bucky is a Russian teacher here at Stark Tower. And a friend of Steve’s. He’s actually why Peter knows the Avengers so well.”

“And how would  _ you _ know?” Someone in the class asked because, well, you know, teenagers. 

“I actually work in the Russian department too. Due to recent conflicts with Hydra, it’s been a lot busier recently with translation efforts. Most of the department is in close contact with the Avengers, even the students.”

“Speak Russian then!” Someone shouted from the back. 

“You’re all idiots. And sorry, Peter, I didn’t realise this had gotten out of hand,” she said calmly in Russian. Evidently, no one had a clue what she’d just said but the hard syllables were enough to convince most of the class of its quality. 

“Все в порядке,” Peter muttered but mustered up a small smile. 

“So, wait, Peter can speak Russian too?” Someone in the class asked, all eyes suddenly darting to the edge of the group where Peter stood. Even Ned looked fascinated. 

“да,” Peter said, “but I’ve only just started. I got involved just before I went for the internship.”

“Seems you’ve been doing a lot outside of school,” Ms Warren commented, although she didn’t sound rude. If anything, she sounded a little proud that one of her students was working so hard outside of her classroom. 

“Um, yeah. Just…like learning, I guess.” God, he was a nerd. An absolute, depressing nerd. But that didn’t mean his words were any less true. He liked learning new physics concepts. He liked learning new chemical analysation techniques so he could upgrade his webs. He liked learning Russian so he could talk better with his friends. He liked learning fighting techniques so he knew he could fight the bad guys. It didn’t matter what it was, he just liked learning. Sometimes it was hard, sometimes it was nothing more than boring, but it was almost always rewarding and he didn’t regret pursuing more. 

“Nerd!” Flash shouted because, ugh, of course he did. (Then again, he was right, Peter had literally just been thinking it.)

“Hey!” Steve called out, looking at least half-way to righteous fury. “Peter here is trying to improve his life. You don’t get to try and insult him for that.” Apparently having Captain America call you out was enough to make you actually shut up for once. “You should all try and be like Peter. School’s important. Take it from someone who never finished it.” It should have sounded stupid, as cheesy as the Rappin’ with Cap videos and then some, but the sincerity bled through all of it, giving it an almost surreal quality that just made you want to  _ listen _ . 

That was the power of Captain America, he guessed.

Between him and Thor, no wonder the Avengers were worshipped. 

“You guys should probably finish your tour now. I’ll tell Bucky you’ll be late.” Steve stared pointedly at Natasha - oh, so he had noticed - but Peter couldn’t decipher it. Although, if her serious nod was any indication, she very much could. Peter couldn’t tell what was suddenly so important but didn’t ask; now really wasn’t the time.

Instead, he followed Natasha out of the room, the rest of his class crowded around him. “So, Peter, how’d you do it?” Cindy asked, her hair in a tight blonde ponytail, pulled far too high up on her head to look cool. 

“Do what?”

“Get into all this. The classes, the Avengers, the internship. You know,  _ everything _ .” 

“Oh, well…it was kind of an accident. It was…” his whole class was staring at him and he felt the lie stick in his throat, so instead he went as close as he could to the truth. “You know the school trip to Oscorp?” The class nodded. “Well, I ended up getting removed from the group and something weird happened. I don’t remember much of it but it was really weird and it kinda made me pass out. When I woke up, a guy was helping me. Bucky. We ended up talking a lot and from there, just, a lot happened. He convinced me to try for the internship and I ended up taking Russian lessons and…yeah.”

“Wow,” at least half the class said. The other half were looking a little sceptical but definitely still a little awed. “Could you get me in your class?” Eric asked; a tall, buff guy that had at least half a foot on Peter. He looked a little too old to be in their class but no one could prove the rumour that he’d been pushed back a few years. 

“Um, I mean, I could-“

“Sorry, but there are no vacancies at the moment,” Natasha interrupted. “Our class sizes have a maximum of two students and we have a limited amount of teachers. But maybe next year. Anyway,” she declared, “now it’s time for the very last bit of our tour. We’re going to go through a few of the floors,  _ including the Russian department _ , and you can have a little look at all the different things that happen in the Tower.”

The excitement continued, even as the wish to go home slowly creeped in. Although meeting so many Avengers and knowing that a guy in their class actually  _ knew _ them was enough to lean them more towards the former. Peter continued to be hounded but it wasn’t all bad, even if he felt exhausted by the time they’d gotten to the upper floors, and he was just glad no one had yet tried to claim he was Spiderman yet. Then again, it wasn’t that easy a connection; Spiderman wasn’t known for being friendly with the Avengers. He was a local guy, kind of like Daredevil, not on the same level as the world-saving superhero team.

Yet, anyway.

It would take a lot more convincing to get him there and this time, Peter didn’t think Bucky would help. Not for another few years, at least.

They walked around the intelligence floor, as well as the translation floor (JARVIS did a lot of the Avengers work but there were plenty of other things that needed a more nuanced approach, especially when it came to corporate contracts). The translation floor was followed by what Peter knew was an empty floor, used for conferences when necessary, but when they walked onto it Natasha announced, “this is an extension of the translation floor. As of right now, we’re just using this floor for teaching but we’re hoping to branch it out into a multipurpose area.” God, her lies were smooth. No matter how far-fetched, she could always make them sound credible. Spy skills, so cool. 

His class perked up, the questions aimed at Peter increasing tenfold, but Natasha did her fair share at diverting the attention. Throughout, Peter kept glancing at MJ, who was inexplicably quiet, staring at him and occasionally making notes in her notebook. He could see Natasha watching her, her eyes narrowing but doing nothing more. Natasha knew just how someone could be a threat even if they didn’t look like it, but at the same time, she knew not to immediately conspire about teenagers. They always looked suspicious. Trust but verify: a defected spy’s code.

When they finally made it to Peter’s classroom, he had his fingers crossed behind his back, walking over the threshold like he was walking the plank, hoping desperately that it would be empty. 

But he didn’t have that kind of luck, did he.

Leaning casually in her chair, newly-red hair curled almost too perfectly. The Scarlet nickname had really stuck and she’d decided that if she was going to be an Avenger, she was going to go all-in on the tacky themes. Better than the red, white and blue, anyway. And even paid homage to the Sokovian flag in a way, making use of the red, yellow and grey colour scheme. “Hello, Peter. You’re late.”

“Hi, Wanda,” he muttered, begging her with his eyes to just  _ not embarrass him _ .

“Is she another teacher?” Andrew asked, leering slightly. Wanda stared at him for at least five seconds, did something no one else could see and watched as Andrew suddenly backed off. “ _ Wanda _ ,” he hissed, the added ‘you can’t just go into people’s head’ not being necessary to say aloud.

“No,” she said aloud, “I’m Peter’s friend.”

“And Bucky’s other pupil,” Natasha said, for the first time, truthfully. 

“He went to speak to Steve. He’s annoyed you didn’t tell him.”

“I told  _ you _ . You could have told him.”

“What would the fun of that be?” She grinned, an eerie mimicry of the Cheshire Cat, making most of his class shift awkwardly. Her mere presence was a lot and Peter forgot just how used he’d gotten to being with her in the last few weeks.

No wonder she didn’t want to go to school.

At least now, she was owning it; clearly, Bucky had gotten through to her at some point. Peter was glad to see it. She deserved a lot after what she’d lost. 

“What’s with the accent then? Why is she learning Russian if she  _ is  _ Russian?” Someone asked, slightly sneering. Peter couldn’t see who it was but Wanda clearly could, and she was fighting a growl. “I’m Sokovian, actually.” The class shut up at that.

“We have a big international programme here,” Natasha explained, “as well as a trust helping Sokovian school children after the Avengers’ involvement with the incident there.” Incident was one way of putting it. Wanda grimaced. Natasha continued on anyway, silently apologising to Wanda, and explained just what the international programme was to a bunch of uninterested teenagers. Good thing, too, because the programme didn’t exist.

Maybe it should have, though. Maybe he and Wanda could talk to Stark.

They left promptly when Natasha’s talk ended and headed through the rest of the floors. Peter didn’t run into anyone else he knew and found that his anxiety was slowly draining. No one had mentioned Spiderman and although this trip would probably haunt him for the next year, it was only his physics class. If he was lucky, rumours would spread and become distorted to the point where no one ever believed them.

Who was really going to believe Peter Parker, nerd and outcast, was best-friends with the Avengers?

As long as his cover wasn’t blown, he was somewhat happy. If he was lucky, he’d even get some respect from it (especially from Flash, freshly chastised by Captain America himself). 

By the time their time was up, they were in the lobby again (Natasha was nothing if not punctual) and they were being ushered back onto the bus. Peter was about to follow when he noticed something out of the corner of his eyes. Bucky, an eyebrow raised pointedly, a thousand words spoken in just one look. Peter sighed.

“Um, Ms Warren, would it be okay if I got picked up from here?” 

Ms Warren sighed but didn’t argue. “If I can get parental permission, sure.”

“I’ll call Aunt May.” He dialled the number quickly, glad that it was Aunt May’s day off when she answered almost instantly. “Um, hi, May. Can I get permission to stay behind at the Tower?”

“WELL DONE ON THE INTERNSHIP!” She screamed over him anyway, followed by at least a hundred more words he didn’t understand before finally calming down. “I knew you could turn him around. What was it? Did you do something in the labs?”

“Oh, no. I think…I think it might have been Flash.”

“The mean kid?”

“Well, yeah, he said I wouldn’t be able to be an intern here and then Tony just appeared out of nowhere and gave it to me.”

“There you go, even the worst things can bring about good. Good going, Pete. Now, what were you saying?”

“Oh! Can I stay at the Tower? I need you to give permission to Ms Warren.”

“Of course. Hand over the phone.” He did so and went through the motions of school bureaucracy, not noticing the movement from the corner of his eye. Or, well, not paying attention to it anyway. Likely Bucky moving out of sight. Peter couldn’t see him anymore, that was for sure. 

As soon as he was let go, he was off, waving his goodbye to Ned (decreeing to himself that he’d text later and apologise that they hadn’t hung out much and that Peter hadn’t told him about - well - everything). He went to the gym first; if he’d missed their teaching session, they’d presumably have moved down here, especially since his class was gone and they were in the all-clear. JARVIS locked it down for them whilst they were in there anyway (seeing as Peter didn’t wear the suit) but knowing Tony, he would have let them in just for the laugh.

If Peter was entirely pessimistic about it, Tony would probably out him as Spiderman just to make him put down the mask. And then lock him in the Tower, just to make sure he was safe.

The ride down felt slower than ever (which was saying something because the Tower’s lifts were probably the fastest in the world) and gave Peter far too much time to think. He didn’t really want to think about today. Whilst in hindsight, he would probably find it funny, right now, he was feeling out of sorts. A concoction of embarrassment, fear and shock all muddled up in his head.

The doors opened, revealing just what he thought. Except, no, there was an addition. Steve was still down here, watching Bucky and Wanda talk with an almost embarrassingly smitten look. (And if it wasn’t kind of exciting that he could say he knew Cap well enough to know when he was smitten.) “Hey, guys,” Peter said with a wave, shoulders hunched and awkward, bracing himself for the impact of the unknown.

“Peter!” Wanda shouted. “How was it?” He glared; she just laughed. “Surely it wasn’t that bad?”

He sighed. “No.” He even smiled a bit when he said, “Stark gave me the internship.” Wanda cheered and Bucky revealed a smile they’d all learnt to covet. Steve was beaming, his arm wrapped around Bucky’s shoulders (Steve was clearly congratulating Bucky for something more than Peter but Captain America’s approval still felt...well,  _ come on _ , it was Captain America!) 

“Well done, Pete,” Bucky congratulated calmly, although his smile was still wide, crinkling his eyes in a way that Peter genuinely didn’t think he’d seen since that time he’d broken into hysterics at the Rappin’ with Cap videos. “Told you he’d give it to you.”

“I think you should probably thank Flash. Him being his usual self gave Tony the final push.”

Steve scoffed. “That kid’s a bully.”

Peter shrugged. “He’s not so bad. He’s just…annoying.” An understatement, at best, but Peter had never felt…bullied, per se. Ostracised, sure. But it had never gone beyond that. Would his life be better without Flash? Definitely. Was he going to be happy when he could finally leave school behind just so he could get rid of him? Probably. Did he hate him? Not really. The Spiderman thing had helped a lot, he thought. Things didn’t hit as hard now. He still wanted friends, of course he did, but it felt like he had a backup now. He had a purpose that he hadn’t had before. Even more than that, he’d found a family with the Avengers that he hadn’t had before. A backup, if things went south elsewhere.

Not that they were any less but, you know, he kinda wanted to be normal too.

“He’s a bully, Peter,” Steve repeated, his eyes a little cold, but Peter just waved him off. “Anyway,” he diverted, “the rest of the day was…embarrassing, but I honestly don’t think anyone’s gonna believe that I’m actually friends with the Avengers apart from the people in my class. No one seemed to get the whole Spiderman thing anyway.”

“Good. I’m sorry they jumped this on you,” Bucky said, his eyes drilling into the back of Wanda’s skull pointedly.

“No, it’s fine. I knew it was coming,” he sighed. “To be honest, it hasn’t really entered my head yet what comes next. Like, I don’t know what’s going to happen at school but it’s probably fine. I’m not all that popular anyway; can’t exactly fall further down the ranks. Who knows, maybe it’ll even get me some popularity.” They all frowned, and Bucky looked ready to come to his defence but he barraged through them. “Sorry about missing the lesson, by the way. I knew it overlapped but I didn’t want to tell you in case of…well, this. But, like, it’s alright you know. Still, sorry,” Peter rambled. 

“No, it’s alright.” Bucky sighed. “Just, tell me next time, kid? There are some things I haven’t told you yet that if I’d-“ Bucky cut himself off, staring into the distance for a bit before removing Steve’s arm from his shoulder. “It’s probably time I told you both.” He motioned for them to sit on the mats, where they usually talked. Steve followed them but purposefully didn’t take a place in the half-formed circle, instead sitting a little behind Bucky, as if he was ready to grab him in an impenetrable bear hug at any time.

Peter almost wanted to see it. Like, Bucky was scarier but was he usually the little spoon? But what was weirder? The Winter Soldier or Captain America being the little spoon?  _ Did they even spoon? _

His thoughts were promptly cut off, and probably for the best, by Bucky speaking. “I know you know a little about my past but I want to tell you guys. Steve already knows, of course, but not many others so just…don't tell anyone, okay?” Peter glanced at Wanda and nodded. She looked calmer than him, yet no less curious. Her time had Hydra hadn’t taught her much then, except possibly a little of what Bucky did.

“I ‘died’,” Steve clutched Bucky’s shoulder in a deathly grip, “in 1945. I’d been experimented on as a prisoner of war before Steve saved me.” Bucky smiled at Steve, definitely more for Steve’s benefit than his own, but it worked in loosening the white-knuckled grip into something softer, more grounding than harsh. “It meant I survived falling into a ravine from a moving train. Hydra found me. My arm had been damaged beyond saving so they gave me this.” He showed his metal arm, moving the joints in every which way. Peter had been fascinated with it for a long time, from a mechanical perspective, but knowing it was made by Hydra was…off-putting.

“Hydra brainwashed me. Tortured me.” Bucky had to stop and breath, lacing his own hand through Steve’s. “I did what they wanted. Mostly assassinations. Big ones.” Peter opened his mouth. “Yes, JFK was me. Why is that everyone’s first question?” Peter shut his mouth again. It wasn’t even what he was going to say but, well, he wasn’t going to push Bucky right now. “But anyway, seventy years of fun-“

“Buck.”

“I’m allowed to joke about it, it’s mine to joke about.” Steve had to concede to that point. “Seventy years later, the helicarriers happen and Steve saved me. I went off the grid for a few months. Hid. Even from Steve. Eventually, I came in, surrendered myself. We started to make a court case but it seemed…inviable. Either they lock me up forever or kill me. The other charges require testimonies I don’t know I can give yet. So technically I’m not a free man. I’m still in hiding. I don’t even exist. The fewer people that know my face, the better. I need to be the one to choose who knows I exist. So, well, your class shouldn’t really-“

“Oh shit,” Peter mumbled. “God, I am so sorry. I told them all your name and-“

“Peter,” Bucky interrupted decisively. “One, you didn’t know. Two, I’ve got the favour of everyone thinking I’m dead on my side. They might hear Bucky and go, wasn’t that Cap’s buddy? But no one’s gonna think that the guy who’s been dead for seventy years is alive.”

“I guessed.”

“But if I hadn’t confirmed your guess, would you have believed it?”

Peter had to give him that. “Probably not,” he admitted. “I’m sorry anyway.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” JARVIS suddenly announced, “but are people allowed in the gym at this present moment?”

Bucky frowned at the ceiling but shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. We’re done with the whole backstory thing.” They all stood up, expecting to see one of the team enter but no one seemed to arrive. Tony, then, who’s decisions were liable to change at any given moment. Peter was almost going to ask more questions but looking at Bucky’s face, it was clear he was taking JARVIS’ interruption for what it was: an easy get-out. 

Which meant it was training time. Steve decided to stay, but just to watch. He’d already done his thing with Wanda earlier and although he’d never trained with Peter, there wasn’t much use. He was similar to Bucky in terms of skill-set and although he had more brute strength, he probably had less to teach. Steve was a Captain not a teacher. One day, Peter would ask if he had any interesting moves but that was for another day.

“Can we do spy skills today?” Peter asked.

“Spy skills? You mean espionage?” 

Peter smirked. “Eh, same thing.”

Bucky clearly held back a laugh but nodded. “Sure thing. What’s bringing this up?”

“Watching Natasha. Made me curious.”

“Of course it did. But fair enough. A lot of it is quite mundane but I can teach you a few of the basics.”

They started on how to tell you had a tail, which was surprisingly hard to practise when you only had four people in the room but they made do. Wanda continued to cheat and Bucky continued to chastise her, seeing as her methods wouldn’t work nearly as well in the real world, before eventually giving in and honing her powers rather than her awareness.

She’d need to learn both ways eventually; no one ever knew when their abilities would fail them and it was always better to have backups. 

But Peter had his turns too, walking along the length of the gym, trying to determine where Bucky was behind the myriad of adjusted machinery. It was on his second go that the elevator doors finally opened to reveal…

MJ?

“Uh…” Peter said dumbly, completely forgetting their test and getting a terrifying fright when Bucky appeared behind him shouted a loud and manly (girly) scream. “MJ,” he said immediately, trying to hide the absolutely mortifying noise that had come out of him whilst shooting poisonous looks at Bucky, “what…what are you doing here?”

“You’re Spiderman, aren’t you?”

“What? No!”

“What’s this then?”

“Um…you know, Russian lessons.”

“In the gym?”

“Yes?”

Bucky definitely mumbled something along the lines of ‘should have started with how to lie’ but it wasn’t enough to break the tension. Even Bucky looked worried. Wanda was startled but had red in her hands, as if she was ready to scavenge through MJ’s mind and just…take the thought away. Except she wouldn’t, because they’d been teaching her boundaries and all that (which meant he was probably going to end up snitching on her with Andrew. Or get a favour). Steve’s back was ramrod straight, staring at the conversation with a dead expression. 

“You have the same voice as him,” she announced, getting her notebook up and going to the page from earlier (oh, right, so she didn’t like him. She was genuinely just observing him. That shouldn’t have been as disappointing as it was, seeing as that’s what he’d told Ned in the first place). “I was watching a clip on YouTube. He had the same voice. And he kind of looked like you. So I did further research.”

“What?” Peter squeaked.

She shrugged. “It adds up. Your friends with the Avengers. You sometimes just don’t show up to school and have really bad excuses the next day. You have ‘Russian lessons’.” 

“I actually am learning Russian!”

“I’m just saying, you’re like almost definitely Spiderman.”

“Shit,” he murmured. “Oh no, no, nono _ no _ .” He frantically turned to Bucky. “No one was supposed to find out. What am I supposed to do now?” He turned back to MJ. “Are you going to tell anyone? Is this blackmail? I can’t- oh my god.”

“Peter, calm down,” Bucky said, wrenching Peter from his panic. Landing both his hands on Peter’s shoulders, Bucky looked into his eyes. “You can’t fix problems if you panic.” He lifted his head. “MJ, right?” The girl in question nodded, looking a little intimidated, as if she hadn’t seen the rest of the people in the room until now. “What are you going to do with this information?”

“Um, well. I just wanted to know, I guess.”

“That’s it?”

“Not got much else to do with it.”

“Good. Wanda, knock it off. You too, Steve.” Both relaxed suddenly, looking like kicked puppies but at that moment, it was clear that Bucky couldn’t care less. “Why were you so determined to look into Peter?”

She shrugged again. “I like to know things. It was interesting. Investigation always is.”

“Do you think anyone else at your school would likely find out?”

“Ned, maybe, because he’s Peter’s best friend. The rest, probably not. They’re all idiots.”

“I like you,” Bucky suddenly declared. “Reminds you of someone, doesn’t she?” He told Steve, who pondered it for a moment before giving Bucky a face that said he at least partially saw the resemblance.

“Who?” Peter asked, because he could never keep his mouth shut.

“Peggy. She wouldn’t let a thing go past her. Didn’t need any enhancements to be a hero. So, MJ, seeing as you’re in the know now, how do you feel about joining our ‘Russian lessons’?”

“Do I have to actually learn Russian?”

“If you come on Wednesdays. Saturdays are for fighting, and Peter teaching me and Wanda some stuff.”

“Your welcome to hang around the Tower for a bit if you don’t want to do any of that,” Steve offered, because he was nothing if not polite. “If you’re joining…this, anyway.”

“And what is this?”

Bucky blew out a breath, thinking for a bit. “Not sure. But we talk stuff over. Problems you have. And we learn. You ever been taught self-defence?”

“No. Can you teach me to fight too?”

“Sure I can. I can teach you to take down Spiderman.”

“For free?”

“Not a penny.”

MJ’s grin was just a little too wide. “Great. When?”

Oh god, Peter was so screwed. 


	8. MJ III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is such a short chapter (I also apologise for apologising in literally every author's note I've ever written XD)! Next one will be longer, I promise. I just needed to tie up the end of this section of Peter POV, then we're back to Bucky :D
> 
> Also, please tell me if you'd rather I take the translations of the Russian out. I know I actually don't like it as much because it can make the story sound clunkier but I put it in there just in case :) Opinions are welcome below.
> 
> Enjoy!

On Wednesday, Peter traipsed into the Tower defeatedly, going up to the newly-coined ‘Language Floor’ and into the conference room, where Bucky and Wanda were already waiting for him. “I am,” Peter dumped his backpack onto a chair, “ _ so _ mad at you right now.” He glared at Bucky with the ferocity of a wolf, which just about managed to shape his young features into that of a puppy (goddammit, Nat). 

“Why?” Bucky asked calmly, leaning back in his seat to reveal a dangerous outfit of a pastel blue jumper with small cuffs and an adorable cartoonish, white design of the moon and stars where a breast pocket would go. Bucky only wore that when he wanted to piss people off. The softer his clothes, the easier it was to scare people when he suddenly looked feral.

There was something almost terrifying about a man in a pastel blue jumper growling at you compared to, say, a biker in a leather jacket. It was like the juxtaposition expanded the fear.

Peter didn’t get it either.

It wasn’t helped any by the skinny black jeans, hidden under the table. Peter wished he didn’t look into it so much but if there was anything he’d learnt about Bucky it was that his clothes usually  _ meant _ something. So, like an art critic analysing a historical painting, Peter looked at Bucky’s jeans and inferred what he could. The black usually meant Bucky was trying to find comfort; reticently, he’d admitted that it reminded him of his old suit. Peter could only infer from there. The tight fit was for bravery, to make him feel like he could face the day with a false front of confidence, like a woman applying bright red lipstick. Conclusion: Bucky had been having a bad day. Which meant Peter couldn’t be mad at him. It was just unfair.

Peter dropped the farce and let his face fall into its usual position, “ugh, it’s fine. But, MJ, really? She’s like-“

“Peter totally has a crush on her,” Wanda interrupted with a cryptic and terrifying smile.

“I do not!”

“That blush says otherwise,” she said, staring at her nails even though Peter knew full well that her attention was entirely on this conversation.

“She likes you too,” Bucky said sincerely.

“What?! No she doesn’t. She just…”

“Would she really go to the effort of all this if she didn’t like you?”

“Maybe she just wanted to be my friend! Or, I don’t know, maybe she actually is evil and is going to out me to the whole world.” Peter didn’t really believe that last one but it had been enough to keep him tossing and turning for a few nights. And then he’d seen MJ on Monday at school, as silent and unobtrusive as ever, and knew that he’d worried for nothing.

Bucky hummed, deceptively still, before a weak smile broke out at the edges of his lips. “Well, I liked her. She was clever.”

“You bring in all the clever teenagers you meet?”

“So far, yes.”

Wanda barked a laugh. “You do not meet enough people, James.”

“If I told you that, as a fully fledged adult, I knew loads of teenagers, I don’t think we’d be congratulating me for my social life.” Wanda laughed again, used to Bucky’s awkward and somewhat dark humour. Peter stifled a small giggle behind a grimace and took them back to the issue at hand.

“Was that really it?”

Bucky sighed, looking Peter in the eye. “That look in her eye, I’ve seen it in yours and I’ve seen it in Steve’s. The moment someone gives her some superpowers, she’s going to be on the streets saving people. For now, she’s just gonna be protective of her friends.” Bucky pointedly motioned to Peter.

“I barely even know her!”

“Then you’re a very bad friend,” Bucky deadpanned. Peter sighed and recognised a lost argument when he saw one, collapsing into his seat and slouching down until only his head was visible above the table; Bucky quickly followed, looking a little too comfortable bundled up in his jumper. Wanda judged them from afar, but did adjust her seat so it was leaning further back, feet up on the chair beside her.

“You alright?” Peter asked. He wasn’t all that used to asking that intending to actually get an answer but it had gotten easier with Bucky. When someone cared about what you said, you sure as hell taught yourself to care about what they said in return.

“I’ve been better. Not too bad, though.” No one quite knew what that meant; ‘bad’ for Bucky could take on a lot of different meanings. So far, Bucky hadn’t missed a single session, even when the dark circles under his eyes were so pronounced they almost looked like makeup, but each time he claimed he was well enough to continue. Steve sometimes stuck by for a little longer, cautiously keeping an eye on Bucky, but he never took a sick day. Depression-era kids, he guessed. 

“Русский, соковский или испанский?” _ [Russian, Sokovian or Spanish?]  _ Bucky diverted.

“Я недавно не говорил на соковском,”  _ [I did not speak Sokovian recently]  _ Peter said in Russian with a shoddy accent and clunky phrasing.

“Then say it in Sokovian,” Bucky ordered, taking far too much pleasure in seeing Peter struggle through the sentence. But Bucky’s method worked. He didn’t let Peter use English, forcing him to struggle through the words. It worked his mind harder but it also meant that he got used to experimenting with words, using ones that bridged the gaps in his knowledge. And the constant reassurance, harsh but strong, kept him from losing all hope. 

Wanda didn’t quite have the same reluctance but each time she snorted, or laughed, or smiled, Bucky usually shot her with a fierce glare. Even more so now. 

Last Saturday, Peter had talked about his struggles with anxious thoughts, ones that didn’t seem to have a pattern nor reason. The school trip hadn’t helped - he’d only pushed through on the high of the newly-earned internship and the lack of outright accusations about his alter-ego - so he’d finally said it aloud and let a small weight off his chest. It by no means fixed anything, or even came close, but it was nice to have someone who knew: who he could tell or just complain to when it got bad. 

They also didn’t care when he made bad jokes, covering the fear with a hesitant laugh and a small smile. Because who cared that he only got anxiety at school and not when fighting the  _ genuine bad guys _ ? And who was in a position to tell him not to laugh at it. Well, he said none, but that wasn’t all true. It was just that somehow, the two didn’t begin to compare. 

“How’s it been at school since Saturday?” Bucky asked in Sokovian, his accent a little too Russian but his grammar perfect.

“They think joke, that it is just,” Peter floundered for the word but came out at a loss, sighing, he switched to English, “a rumour.”

Bucky easily corrected his grammar, without condescension or strictness, just matter of fact, before adding, “it’s the same as in Russian: слу.” Peter nodded and repeated the sentence smoothly; if anything served him well, it was his memory. 

“Good, I don’t want your life to get any harder because of a joke,” Wanda said in easy Sokovian. 

“Yeah, um, it is easy when your...репутации…?”  _ [reputation] _ Bucky nodded, like most words, it was the same in Russian, “...is bad.”

“Hey,” Bucky argued, “it would be unbelievable for anyone.”

“Yeah but does not help.”

Bucky sighed, something distant flickering over his eyes. He was lost for a second, staring blankly at the wall before he turned back to Peter. “Steve told me about Flash,” he said, switching to English. 

“What about him?”

“The name-calling. I’m willing to bet that there’s more to it.”

“It’s fine.”

“You mentioned him before, said what he was doing was getting worse.”

“It’s better now.”

“ _ Peter _ .” Bucky’s voice, tired yet strong, forced Peter’s eyes from the table. Wanda was staring at the two of them, visibly worried but empathetic. Bucky, on the other hand, showed nothing but determination, eyebrows creased inwards, blue eyes daring. “We started this because we were honest. Don’t start lying now.”

“It’s really not that bad. He calls me names. Always has. Always will. I’ve gotten used to it.”

“That doesn’t make it any better.”

“I know but…” Peter sighed, “I only have two years left at school. It’s easier to ignore it than confront it.”

“Two years is a long time, Pete.”

“Not compared to the rest of my life.”

Bucky gnawed on his lip for a second, eyes distant again. It was like he kept losing track of reality. Peter worried for a moment, about to reach out and ask again when Bucky interrupted with, “are you going to confront him?”

“It just makes it worse.”

“Have you talked to May about this? Or the school?”

“The teachers have never really stopped him but they’re aware of it. May knows…parts.”

“You should tell her. The full story. Otherwise, I’m sending Captain America to your Aunt to tell her in his ‘I’m very disappointed in you’ voice. And I promise you, it’s awful.”

“I don’t want to burden her with that. She has enough problems. With Uncle Ben gone and the whole Spiderman thing, it’s-“

“Peter, she’s your parent, Aunt or not. She wants to know. She deserves to know.”

“But I can’t change anything.”

“Has it been any better since Steve talked to him?”

“Not really. He didn’t say anything on Monday but it started again yesterday. Think he realised that Captain America isn’t exactly monitoring his every move.”

“I can make it so he is.”

“Bucky, no!”

“What? If that’s what it takes to stop him.”

“That’s…god, no, that’s way too far. We’re not making Captain America stalk a teenager!”

“Steve wouldn’t mind.”

“I know! That’s what makes it really weird.” Bucky just shrugged. “I’m being honest when I say there’s no  _ feasible _ plan that will help.”

“I could join your school,” Wanda blurted, looking a little shocked at herself. “I could stop him.”

“Wanda, no, I know you don’t-“

“It would be good for me. I…I talked to Clint yesterday; I, we had- we had a long talk.” She stopped for a moment, her fists clenched over the table. “We...I realised I’m living in fear. My face isn’t recognisable yet, there’s no reason I shouldn’t go to school. I would be a Junior so I wouldn’t be in your classes but you’ve caught me up on a lot of what I’ve missed so I could attend classes there and hang out with you at break times.”

“You really want to? It’s…you have to take an exam to get in.”

“Well, I better get training then.”

Bucky turned to her, face impassive until he was sure of her choice. He raised a single eyebrow that asked the only question he needed to ask. Calmly, she nodded. Her hands were fidgeting wildly, the only tell-tale sign that she was anxious, but she was ready to face this head-on. 

“I’m not sure how it works when you join part way through the year, especially the last semester, so it might not be an immediate solution. But it would give you time to prepare,” Peter said. 

Wanda smiled, looking back down at her nails carefully. “I think that’s good. You can show me the ropes when we get there.”

“Of course,” he agreed, “though, hanging out with me probably won’t earn you many friends.”

“Good. I don’t like lying to people and for this to work, I don’t want to be showing off my identity.”

“Do you have papers?” Bucky asked. “Has anyone gotten that for you?” 

Wanda’s eyes widened and she slowly shook her head. “No. Does that mean I can’t go?“

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get you something. It’ll be fake but I can get one that passes the system.”

“You don’t have to-“

“No. You should go to school. Real school, Wanda. Take it from someone who dropped out at 14.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, blinking rapidly. “Both of you.”

“You’re doing this for me,” Peter said, “there’s nothing to thank.”

And with that, they got back to their lesson, ignoring the fact that they got distracted about every other ten minutes to talk about what school was like. Bucky didn’t seem to mind, curious himself, whilst Wanda took in the information greedily, even smiling excitedly by the end. Peter wasn’t sure why, he didn’t exactly have the most favourable view of school, but if it made Wanda smile, he wasn’t sure he cared.

When he picked up his bag to go home, he was smiling himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates aren't coming as quick as I'd like but it's predominantly due to writing my other fic [when I see it through your eyes (it's alive)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24239296/chapters/58405720) but I'm doing my best to alternate them evenly.
> 
> Thanks as usual for all the amazing comments; whatever you leave really improves my day :D


	9. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of Steve and Bucky this chapter but I've deemed it only fair after a few chapters of Peter's POV. Also, a little warning for some more angst. I'm trying to keep the humour running through it but it's quite hard to stick somewhat to canon aspects of Bucky without it being depressing. It's also necessary to set up the next few chapters. This whole chapter is basically to set up the next few chapters.
> 
> I hope you enjoy anyway!  
> (And I apologise for the length of these author's notes, dear god. I think you can guess how much I talk in real life. There's a reason I used to not write them at all.)

Saturday came quickly for Peter, yet much slower for Bucky. After a run of bad days in which Steve remained in their apartment with him, whispering sweet nothings in his ear as he blankly watched Antiques Roadshow, he was almost run beyond his rope. But he had a session to get to and a dedication to the kids in it to get there on time and without struggle. Steve had argued with him to stay home but he refused, forcing himself into the shower, blasting summer hits on the speaker that he neither liked nor had the energy for. 

He dressed himself to the nines. A black top with a leather jacket thrown on top, far from dissimilar to the kevlar outfit that still hung in the back of the wardrobe. Somewhere in his mind, he wished he could burn the damn thing; instead, he pushed it to the back of his wardrobe and pretended it didn’t exist. Every time it came forward, he’d let his fingers brush against it just for a second - comfort and fear warping him in equal measure - before he’d push it back again.

To match, he put on his baggy black jeans, allowing himself to feel obscured by the lack of shape. His build was softened by the lack of sharp edges or even the revealing of barely existing curves. Although his inner - and rather stylish - voice detested it, he wore it like a suit of armour.

Still unable to do anything with his hair, he left it limp around his face. For once, he found himself not caring and let it fall forward, masking his expressions behind hazy shadows.

“Buck, stop. I know Michelle’s coming today,” (only Steve was allowed to call her that), “but she’s only going to be scared if you come in looking like she’s a threat.”

“I will not.”

“You’re looking at me like  _ I’m _ a threat right now, Buck.”

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair and trying to pull it away from his face; Steve didn’t like it when he tried to hide. Slowly, he mustered a smile and tried to hide behind that instead, another brick added to his crumbling castle. 

“You shouldn’t have to pretend either,” Steve sighed, dragging Bucky into his arms and slowly rubbing his back. “You’ve gone rain or shine, they’ll forgive you for taking a week off.”

“But I won’t forgive myself. I’m supposed to be doing better.”

“You told me your therapist,” unofficial - due to the circumstances - but professional, “said that recovery wasn’t linear.”

“And I call bullshit.”

Steve sighed, grabbing Bucky by his shoulders and holding him at arm's length. “No you don’t,” he said knowingly. “This isn’t the end of the world, Bucky. You’re a little down.” Depressed, but neither of them were ever going to admit to that. Somewhere, Bucky was still a little dubious that it was a thing at all. “Why don’t you try and get through the day in the most comfortable fashion you can?”

“But I’ll feel worse when I do nothing.”

“Or you’ll feel worse not being able to do something.”

So they were at an impasse. They were both correct, at least to some extent. The thing about Bucky’s bad days were that they were mercurial. Sometimes, he could push through them. He’d be tired but sane, the memories distant but looming. But sometimes they’d be too close. Sometimes he’d push himself and instead of running away, he found himself running into them, lost in the trap of torture and fear and a life long gone.

Some days he could tell which one it would be. Some days he couldn’t. And Steve, for all the magic he possessed, couldn’t either.

“I want to try,” Bucky said, pushing his shoulders back and lifting his head up, revealing his exhausted features. 

Steve nodded, knowing Bucky’s stubbornness as well as his own. “Can I at least come with you? Just for a bit. Keep an eye on you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he argued automatically, even though the idea sounded great. He always felt a little stronger with Steve by his side, a little more grounded in reality. “Sorry,” he apologised quickly, “that would actually be great.”

Steve kissed the crown of his head with a wan smile. “Give me five minutes to get ready?”

“I’ll give you three,” Bucky teased, just to watch Steve’s shoulders loosen. He always knew Bucky was present when he was still cracking jokes. 

Steve raced off and was back in four minutes (“you’re late, Rogers”; “I know, I know,”) with his skin flushed red and his hair slightly damp. He showered like a soldier, always presentable even in the shortest of circumstances. 

“You good to go?” Steve asked.

“I should be asking you that, I’m the one waiting for you.” Steve raised an eyebrow. “Fine, fine, yes, I’m good to go.”

“Great.” Steve reached out his hand. Bucky took it with a falsely exasperated smile, squeezing it tight like the pressure would make his skin burst and the anxiety just flood out. If only the blood wouldn’t flood out too. Shame, that.

~*~

They made it to the Tower in good time and somehow managed to be the first to arrive. Even against Wanda, who only had an elevator to get in. Although, she did like to dress up for the lessons. Staying inside the Tower was slowly driving her mad and even if their lessons weren’t exactly ‘leaving’, it felt good to treat it as such, hence her usually perfectly composed outfits, nails and hair. Bucky couldn’t judge her for that; he was exactly the same.

Steve lingered at the door as Bucky sat down, indecisively looking at the seats. “You can sit wherever, we don’t always sit in the same place.” Often they did, usually with Bucky taking the seat nearest the board, Wanda on his left and Peter opposite, but it hadn’t been the best solution for when Peter was teaching them both so they usually just arranged themselves as the session deemed fit. If Peter was going to be standing at the board drawing diagrams for a lesson, it was easier for Wanda and Bucky to sit on either side of the table to get the best view. If Peter needed to sit down and explain to both of them, it was easier for them to sit in a row.

Steve still didn’t seem sure but cautiously took the seat next to Bucky. “Come on, slugger,” Bucky complained, “you’re supposed to be my emotional support. You look more anxious than I am.”

“Are you? Anxious, I mean.”

“Nah. This bit’s fine. I don’t have to talk all that much. Peter won’t push it.”

“You sure?”

“Steve,” Bucky sighed, “I’ve been doing lessons with him every week. I’m sure.”

“Sorry. Just…” Steve bit his lip, “I don’t know.”

“Well, well, if it isn’t Stevie Rogers being uncertain for once in his life. Come on, pal, what’s up? You’re not usually like this.”

“I’m just worried, is all. But I don’t want to be pushy.”

“You haven’t been afraid to pushy a day in your life.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just…I don’t know, I thought you might be getting a bit annoyed at it or something.”

Bucky’s eyes widened and he grabbed Steve by his shoulders urgently. “Steve, listen here, don’t you dare do a single action because you think I’m going to be annoyed. That’s not how this works.”

“But…I don’t want you to leave,” Steve admitted, blue eyes glistening in a way Bucky hadn’t seen since he was 7. Dear God, what had he done? “I know you’ve not been doing so good this week and I just keep thinking that if I push you too far, you’ll finally snap and leave again. I mean, you could if you wanted. I wouldn’t stop you or anything, that’s your choice, but-”

“Steve, god, I’m so sorry. I’m not going to leave. You know the headspace I was in last time. I’m here to stay, you hear me? I’m not leaving. Especially not because you’re being your usual self. I love your usual self.”

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately. I just…god it sounds so stupid now that I want to say it out loud.”

“Come on, just tell me. I won’t laugh or nothing.”

“I was watching this goddamn TV show and it just…it hit a little close to home, you know? And I started getting nervous and I- I don’t want you to leave, Buck.”

“I won’t. So get that into your thick skull, Rogers. No crappy TV show should convince you otherwise,” Bucky said seriously. He cracked a smile, “but what was it? I think we have to ban it if it’s giving you stupid ideas like that.”

“No, no, it’s fine-“

“God, you like this show, don’t you?”

“No, it’s just, it’s- okay, fine, I like it. It’s cheesy but it’s good.”

“I bet it’s a really crappy medical drama.”

“No!” Steve shouted a little too quickly but before Bucky could come back with a reply, the door opened and Wanda walked in with a cocked eyebrow. “Am I interrupting something?” 

Bucky shrugged, another presence enough to clam up his mouth. It was almost amazing how different he could be with Steve. How his mood could slip so low yet he could still laugh and joke and tease. Steve always made it like anything was possible.

“Hey, Steve,” Wanda said, turning away from Bucky. They knew each other well enough by now to know when to leave it alone. 

“Hey, Wanda. How are the flips coming along?”

“Good. Might try a few new variations out today.”

“Natasha will be delighted.”

“Oh! I completely forgot. Did James tell you? I’m going to go to school!”

“Wait, really? I mean, that’s great, Wanda. Although, I don’t mean to sound like a downer but how? We’re still working on your visa.”

“James offered me some…things.” No one wanted to tell Captain America that his boyfriend was forging them false papers. Even if he knew exactly what said boyfriend was doing.

Steve hummed noncommittally, but moved away from the topic of illegal activity and back to Wanda’s plans. “That really does sound great. Where are you going to be going?”

“I’m going to try the entrance exam for Peter’s school. It’s a lot more science than I’m used to but I think I’ve got the math down. If not, I’ve been looking around a few other schools. It would be great to focus on languages if I could.”

“Sounds like you’ve got everything sussed out.”

“Well, I haven’t had much else to do. It’s been a good way to spend my time.”

Steve looked a little guilty at that. “You know you can call us at any time, right? Even if you’re just bored.”

“Oh, it’s fine. Me and Vis have been hanging out a lot. He’s been helping me look at the options.”

Bucky smirked, Wanda scowled and Steve looked between the two with evident confusion. “What?” He asked, looking back and forth one more time.

“Wanda’s got a crush on the android.”

“I do not!” She said indignantly. “He’s just nice to talk to.”

“Are we talking about Vision again?” Peter asked as he walked in, grinning like a loon. “Is  _ Wanda _ talking about Vision again?”

“How have I missed this?” Steve asked, but no one replied to him.

“I do not have a crush on Vision! Why don’t we talk about Peter’s much more evident crush on MJ? She’s the one who’s going to be here today.”

“No, I want to talk about Vision,” Peter said with a petulant scowl, “the  _ robot _ .”

“He’s sentient!” Wanda argued but even she could see the absurdity. It clearly didn’t change her opinion nor her feelings but there was definitely going to be some mind-bending to try and wrap their heads around a teenager and a robot possibly dating.

“At least MJ’s human.”

“So you do have a crush on her!” Wanda cheered, pointing a blunt nail at Peter. For all that she styled them, they were always short. Although, less chipped now that she’d stopped biting them. Peter sighed, rolling his eyes, his lips sealed shut. If you looked carefully, though, you could see the hint of red on his cheeks and around his ears.

It only took a minute or two more, rife with back and forth teasing, before they actually started the lesson. No one questioned Steve’s presence and even let him regularly join in when he was interested enough. Bucky knew Steve couldn’t care less about school, nor was he all that good at it, but it was nice to see him taking Bucky’s place to save him the hassle of answering. 

Bucky barely said two words the entire session, comfortable to just listen to the excited speech Peter gave on basic mathematical mechanics. Mostly disproving a lot of what he was teaching, whilst reassuring them that it was - for some reason or another - required knowledge anyway. 

Before he knew it, they were in the elevator and going down to the basement, Steve still in tow. They all went through the gym and into their separate changing rooms, somehow timing it so they all came out together again.

MJ was already there waiting for them when they came out, a loose t-shirt and leggings on. Not quite workout gear but close enough. “Hey, MJ,” Peter said shyly, not flinching at all when Wanda elbowed him pointedly in the stomach. 

“Nice to see you again,” Wanda interrupted, “I’m Wanda.”

“Yeah,” MJ said with a nod, “I remember. I’m MJ.”

“Welcome to our sessions,” Wanda said, her accent suddenly thicker and for the first time actually a little worried. Now that she had plans to join Peter at school, she needed to learn to play a lot nicer with other people her age: something she hadn’t had to do since she was 12. 

“So…” MJ raised an eyebrow, not looking worried in the least, “who are you actually? I haven’t seen you on the news.”

“Oh, I only fought with the Avengers in Sokovia. I’m Scarlet Witch.” With a flourish, she produced a shower of red sparks from her hands. Barely a talent when compared to her other skills but enough to give her the other-worldly aura she liked to present. MJ nodded, eyes a little too wide to feign composure, but didn’t interrogate further, her eyes zooming in on Bucky instead. 

“I don’t know what you’ve figured out so far but it’s best not to ask,” Bucky said bluntly, suddenly exhausted. Steve’s hand was on his shoulder in a second, steadying him, but it didn’t release the bone-deep tiredness that seemed to crawl under his skin. He could still fight - he could do that when he hadn’t slept for days - but socialising was something he still had to fight to maintain and this just made it that bit harder. 

“Is Captain America always here?” She asked instead, using the length of the silence to tie her hair back into a low ponytail and out of her face. Unlike Wanda, she was smart enough to reduce the volume of her hair in a fight. Wanda kept saying something about liking how it looked when she flew. Bucky couldn’t really judge; he fought against his most formidable enemy, Steve himself, with his hair in his eyes. He  _ still _ fought with his hair in his face, but he had his reasons. 

Luckily, Steve hadn’t been taught to fight dirty. Despite the frequent back-alley brawls, he’d still learnt to  _ actually _ fight in basic. The army didn’t - especially in the 40s - teach you to fight dirty nor people with long hair. Men didn’t have long hair back then and they certainly wouldn’t think of the preposterous idea that you might have to fight a  _ girl _ .

“No. I’m just here for Bucky today,” Steve said, careful not to be too obvious about it. Unfortunately, for all his practice at making inspirational speeches, Steve could be pretty useless at social interaction, especially when he wasn’t actively trying to live up to his Captain America image. It was made that much worse by women, of any age. 

He was getting a lot better. Practice made perfect after all and unlike his former self, plenty of people wanted a piece of Steve nowadays. 

“Okay, we’re going back to basics today. Wanda, you’re with me. Peter and MJ, pair up.” Bucky tried to muster a smirk but it didn’t quite reach his lips. Wanda had no such consternation, practically leering when Peter flushed. God, those two were like siblings sometimes. “We start on self-defence. Active fighting comes after you learn to not just roll with the punches,” he said, staring directly in Steve’s eyes. The man didn’t even look cowed.

“Peter, don’t use your full strength. It’s pointless for this exercise. We’ll get to overcoming opponents that much stronger than you later.” Half a plan formed in his head, creating a rough guide to MJ’s upcoming progress. He’d have to figure out a way to balance the three of their curriculums out, if you could call them that. With their wildly different skill sets, and difference in prior knowledge, Bucky was going to find it harder and harder to balance their time. But he could, even if it meant drawing up a proper plan at home. He certainly had the time.

Calmly, and with much fewer words as time went on, he demonstrated the main techniques and then left them to practice. For the first fifteen minutes, he checked MJ’s progress, correcting her when necessary, before he let them have at it, sticking Steve with watching over them in case she was getting into any truly bad habits. Despite Bucky’s persistent insistence that Steve was not an instructor, Steve had repeatedly informed him that he was the person who trained all the new Avengers; if anything, he was more qualified for this than Bucky.

(Training the other Winter Soldiers apparently didn’t count for much.)

With his hands now free, he approached Wanda, motioning for them both to sit. “I wanted to talk about your mental abilities. Maybe practice them.” She blanched quickly, showing every bit of the anxiety Bucky felt. 

“Are you sure?” She asked. “Is today really the-“

“Steve’s here. He’ll keep an eye out. We won’t go looking into my thoughts. I just wanted to talk to you about the malleability of what you can do. Steve said you gave them nightmares. I’ve also seen you coerce people. What is the full range of your abilities?” The words made him tired, like each one out of his mouth was another weight on his back but he suffered through it, ignoring the persistent fantasies of hiding under the blankets at home whilst sleep took him under. 

“Um, well, so far we’ve figured out reality warping, probability manipulation and energy projection.”

“You think that’s the full list?” 

Wanda shook her head. “My powers, they came from the mind stone. The one Vision has. But I also show abilities that come from other stones.”

“What’s probability manipulation?”

“You know how Peter talks about quantum physics?” Bucky nodded. “That relies on probabilities. I can change…chaos. It doesn’t mean I’m lucky or anything,” she scoffed, a frown forming on her lips, “I can’t change those sort of probabilities but alongside energy projection, it’s how I move objects.”

“Complicated.”

“Everything is.”

Bucky nodded. “And reality warping is the mind things?”

“Mostly.”

“So you can change all reality?”

“Only in someone’s imagination. Like…” She waved a hand and suddenly a tarantula was crawling up Bucky’s arm. Frantically, he looked over to Steve and as if beckoned, Steve’s eyes switched from the grappling teenagers to Bucky. He clearly didn’t see the spider.

Bucky sighed and shook his head at Steve, telling him not to come over, and shut his eyes. Carefully, almost serenely, he tried to shut his mind out. It wasn’t 100% effective but when he opened his eyes, the spider was gone, whether by Wanda’s hand or his own.

“So to change a group reality, you have to get into everyone’s heads?” He asked.

“Pretty much. The more people, the harder it is. It takes energy, the same as fighting. It’s easier to do one person at a time. Testing my limits can have…consequences.”

“Like what?”

“Insanity.”

“Great.”

“Powers always come with a price.”

Bucky sighed. “But I wish they didn’t.” Bucky finally gave up on words and hauled himself onto his feet, motioning for Wanda to follow. They moved to a more abandoned corner, out of the way of MJ and Peter - who looked to be laughing with each other more than they were fighting, even if Peter was still fidgeting like a caged rabbit - and stood opposite each other. “You don’t want to practice this, do you?”

Wanda shook her head. “It reminds me of...what I did. Back then.”

Normally he would talk about this in depth. Today, he could barely muster up a comfort. “We won’t then. But eventually you should. Your powers are beyond anything I’ve seen before. They’ll protect you.”

“I know. Just not yet.”

Bucky nodded. “So, the other stuff. Weaknesses?” He asked simply.

“Focusing on multiple things at once.”

Bucky nodded and beckoned Steve over. It didn’t look like he was being of much use with Peter and MJ. “Get me two of those guns Stark likes to play with. The…nerd ones? Whatever they’re called,” he whispered, pointing at the trunk of miscellaneous crap on the other side of the gym.

“They’re Nerf guns.”

“Stupid name.”

Steve just shrugged and got what they needed: two large guns with a 12 bullet magazine, with two refills each. Steve, as oblivious as he was, was in charge of most of Wanda’s training, he knew how to make this challenging. Honestly, Bucky should have just handed over a lot of her training to Steve to try and free time up for the others but he liked training with Wanda. It was a challenge and it was  _ fun _ , which was what these sessions were more about than anything else.

“Hey, how come you guys get to fight with Nerf guns?!” Peter shouted indignantly when he finally turned his attention away from MJ. 

Bucky smirked, an idea forming in his mind. “Give MJ the 18 round gun. Steve and I get the 12 bullets. Peter, you can have the pistol. Wanda, you get nothing. Free for all. Three strikes and you’re out. Be nice to MJ,” he ordered. It wasn’t going to be nice for her. They were all specially trained and she wasn’t even barely trained. Even with a bigger gun, it wouldn’t stop her from being hit, even if it made it easier for her to hit others. 

Now it was time for the easiest bit; where Bucky could sink into his mind and ignore the lingering deadness behind his eyes. Fighting brought out something else in him and it wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore. It was something else entirely. Something commanding and focused, dragging him into consciousness and keeping him there.

They set up their positions, Bucky giving MJ as many tips as he could to try and even the odds, before he moved into his own position. 

“Three, two, one!” He called out before the fray began. 

It went as expected. MJ tried to hide more than shoot (clever) and Steve immediately exposed himself in order to get towards Wanda and Bucky. Peter hid in the rafters, saving his two bullets for the most opportunistic time. Or, more likely, when there were only two opponents left.

As Steve attacked Wanda, she put up her red shield, approaching Steve with the intent to take his gun, which Steve clearly hadn’t realised. But that left her back undefended. Bucky, wanting to keep the fight going more than he wanted to end it, hit her once in the leg, Steve once in the shoulder and Peter where his hand had grasped the beams. It wasn’t the shot he was intending but the Nerf bullets didn’t track the normal patterns and he hadn’t adjusted to the unnatural shape of the gun yet. One day, he’d ask Stark to make them a paintball field. Now  _ that _ would be fun.

That left MJ and Bucky with three lives and Peter, Wanda and Steve with two. They all ran to cover as Bucky raced across the room to where MJ was hiding behind the largest coverage in the room (the weight machines had large plastic backs, completely for aesthetic rather than practical use, which were easy to hide behind). MJ shot him as soon as he rounded the corner. Bucky: 2. He groaned, “I was going to suggest a team-up but now,” he raised his gun…

“I’m just giving myself an advantage. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t team up.”

“You just shot me.”

She shrugged. “You’ve got two lives left.”

“You’re going to be worse than Steve, aren’t you?”

“Depends how bad Steve is,” she snarked as Bucky ducked behind the covering just as one of Steve’s bullets ricocheted off the wall just to his left. Thank god for Steve’s awful aim, fake gun or no. 

“I’m going to get up onto the rafters to get Peter. Once I’m up there, start shooting. I’ll cover you.”

“Yes, sir,” she said with a facetious salute and watched as Bucky threw himself sideways and up the climbing wall, forcing himself onto different paths as Steve tried to rain down bullets. Peter was clearly trying to get an aim on him as well but was failing to find a good shot.

If he hadn’t gotten MJ on his side, he would probably have been shot out. Even he couldn’t protect himself from three people at once, with one in close range. ( _ See, Steve _ , working with others  _ can _ help. Self-sacrificing, idiot.) Instead, he was up on the rafters without a single bullet hitting him and with Steve down at least eight more bullets. And now he was in prime position. 

He approached Peter calmly, not bothering to cover himself too much and taking the perfectly placed bullet Peter placed on him. Bucky: 1. But also Peter’s last bullet. Shouldn’t have wasted one on Steve whilst he was climbing. 

Bucky shot two bullets, one on Peter’s leg and the other on his chest. Peter: 0. “Out!” Peter called out, sounding both impressed and petulant, before swinging off the rafters and taking his place on the bench. Bucky saw him eyeing MJ, probably somewhere between being annoyed that he’d lost to her and impressed that she’d held her own. If only by avoiding everyone. 

Never underestimate the underdog.

So, MJ ‘3’, Wanda ‘2’, Steve ‘2’ and Bucky ‘1’. Not great odds but also not awful with his new position. It was time to try harder. “MJ!” He called out and watched her move from her perch, leaving most of her body behind it but revealing enough of her arms and head to take the shots. She had a knack for this sort of stuff, he realised, impressed.

She started shooting, missing for the most part but catching Steve’s hip. Steve: 1. Steve got her once in return, right on the hand, looking a little too pleased with his aim, despite having just hit an untrained 16-year-old. MJ: 2. 

Realising MJ wasn’t his main competitor, Steve focused back on Wanda, her shield going back up again so Bucky angled himself just so…

The first bullet hit Wanda in her unprotected back (Wanda: 1), causing her to let out a loud shout, encouraging Steve to run at her. The next bullet flew right at Wanda’s shield at just the moment Steve got close enough that when it hit, it rebounded right into him. Steve: 0. “Out, Rogers!” Bucky shouted when Steve didn’t seem to count that as a hit. Steve started spluttering but then MJ got his back with another bullet. So, well, Steve: -1. 

So, MJ ‘2’, Wanda and Bucky ‘1’. It was time to end this but it was going to be difficult. “Sorry,” he called out as he shot MJ from above, hitting her back. 

“I thought we were a team!”

“We were!” 

Even from so far away, he heard it when MJ muttered, “and he keeps saying Captain America’s the bad one.” Bucky smiled. He quashed the urge to tell Steve he told him so. His mood wasn’t really lifted at all but he was still glad he came, if only for the few smiles he could muster.

MJ, with new determination, finally left her hiding place and started firing hellfire down on Wanda, a twinkle in her eye. Wanda caught on immediately. Bucky swallowed, trying to intercept their plan before they could execute it.

He came up blank.

Until Wanda caught the bullets and sent them flying up to the ceiling. Right at Bucky. He didn’t stand a chance. Bucky: -9. “Out,” he hissed, clambering back down the climbing wall and flipping off it when he got halfway down (he was allowed to show off a bit, especially in front of Steve) and went to the benches, taking his usual place next to Steve, who was now having a calm but serious chat with Peter. 

Bucky kept his eyes and ears on the fight. 

One life each.

“I’m sorry, MJ,” Wanda said, not looking sorry at all as she took a bullet out of the barrel with the red tendrils of her magic and gently tapped MJ with it. MJ, smartly, didn’t try and shoot Wanda. She’d already seen what would happen.

“Out,” MJ called, although she didn’t look all that put out. Wanda was smiling wildly, red sparks still lingering around her hands like they sometimes did when she was excited and fresh from a fight. 

“Well done, Scarlet. Good tactics. And you MJ. Pete, stop sitting in the rafters, use your webs. Swing around. Make yourself a harder target. Steve, for the love of God, I’m so glad I don’t actually train you.”

“What?!”

“You’re supposed to be the strategic master of the century and your only plan was  _ charge _ ?”

“I haven’t fought you guys before.”

“You have almost never fought your target before! That's not how fights work!”

“It works in the field.”

“Unfortunately.”

“You can’t deny it.”

“I’m not.” Bucky shot Steve a glare, the easiest way to shut him up and stop the incessant chatter that was starting to dig under his skin. Steve, on any other day, would normally push. Today, he remained silent. “Okay, good going, guys. I’m gonna go get changed.”

He smiled at them, hoping to convey that he was fine (was he?) and slowly slinked away to the changing rooms. He really was glad he could make it today, even if he wasn’t up for any more. They’d understand, he thought. Or hoped. Or didn’t believe at all. But Steve would say they would and Bucky had learnt to trust Steve, no matter how stupid that was. 

Conflictingly hopped up on adrenaline and exhausted, he felt the eyes on him but no one but Steve followed, thankfully. Next week, he promised himself, he’d be better.

~*~

“Is he always like this?” MJ asked. 

Peter shook his head mournfully. “It’s been getting worse. We usually talk in these sessions a lot more. He helps us out. He still will but you know if Steve’s with him, that he’s, you know-“

“Depressed,” Wanda interrupted easily. She was far more shameless about these things than Peter.

“Yeah, I guess,” Peter said with a sigh. “Steve hasn’t stayed the whole time before.” Peter worried with his lip, his eyes focused on the changing room doors. 

“I hope you had fun anyway,” Wanda said, changing the topic. It wasn’t their place to talk about Bucky behind his back.

“I did. This was really fun.”

“Good. I’m going to go get changed too. I’ll see you next week?” MJ nodded and waved as Wanda left, the red around her hands finally petering out.

“Did you really have fun?” Peter asked, his foot digging anxiously into the ground. Peter worried far too much, in MJ’s opinion, but she liked him anyway. It was cute.

“I really did. I’ll see you at school, Peter.” 

MJ left slowly, sending surreptitious glances towards a slightly star-stuck looking Peter, who finally shouted, “yeah! I’ll see you Monday!”

All-in-all, it wasn’t a bad first session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is much longer than expected but isn't late for once! There was supposed to be a whole other section to this but I've deemed that due to it's length and wanting to get this out on time, I've put it into the next chapter. Hopefully then I can actually get back to the stuff I've had planned since the start (we've diverted very far off course). 
> 
> As usual, thank you so much for the response on this fic. It's definitely my most popular fic and I'm super grateful. All comments and kudos are super appreciated, I promise.


	10. Interlude I: The Party (and reasons not to drink alcohol)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I spend too long on the present opening scene? yes. But I’m god awful at buying presents so with the amount of planning I put in, I felt entitled to drag the scene out XD For that very reason, this has ended up the longest chapter of the entire book. Oops!
> 
> Enjoy! (again, sorry for the wait. I seem to be dipping in and out of inspiration at very random times.)
> 
> WARNING: I am British so I have taken a very British stance on drinking here (or maybe even more liberal than that but I have to say, underage drinking is pretty much commonplace here). I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, you can probably skim read it :)

Peter’s birthday party ended up happening weeks after his actual birthday as they raced towards the end of the school year. Wanda had deemed it smart to start at the beginning of the new school year, giving her time to study over the summer and catch up, which meant her schedule was still rather free. She, in turn, had become Bucky’s second in command in the Peter Parker Party Planning Committee (too many P’s, Bucky argued, but Wanda thought it was funny). Still, that didn’t mean it was any easier to get all of the Avengers, as well as Peter’s friends and family, together in one place at the same time. 

And that’s where the other issue came in. Peter wasn’t all that popular and he didn’t mind it that way, so he only really had two people he wanted to invite that weren’t Avengers: MJ and Ned. MJ was on board, she knew who Peter was and it wouldn’t be a hardship to bring her up to the common area. Ned, on the other hand, was faring to be a problem.

On their Wednesday session, two days before the party was planned, Peter had decided it was finally time to panic, having put off the inevitable hurricane until the last moment. Procrastination, Bucky had chided, never paid off. Peter hadn’t really heard him over the impossibly loud screeching in his head.

“Would he be able to keep the secret?” Bucky asked, fighting to keep Peter’s eyes on his.

“Yes. No. I don’t know! Maybe? MJ has and I’m closer with Ned and he’s a really good friend and all. It’s just…it feels like I’ve been telling the whole world the last few months. All the Avengers know, May knows, MJ knows. It’s, like, I don’t know, I thought I’d have more time,” Peter rushes out in one breath, his face going red at the edges.

“That’s fair enough, Pete, and no one’s going to pressure you to do anything you don’t want to. This is up to you.”

“Can’t you just tell me what to do?” 

“Not how life works.” 

Peter sighed, looking forlornly at Wanda, who had no advice at all. She understood the fear of being revealed, if to a lesser extent. She understood that neither option was perfect. 

Jesus Christ, Bucky thought, a goddamn birthday party shouldn’t cause this much trouble.

“I think I’ll invite him,” he deliberated. “Will everyone else be alright with that?”

“Of course. This is your party.”

Peter nodded, biting his lip. Almost immediately, Bucky knew another problem had arisen. “What is it?”

“Is it bad if I just…invite him and not tell him about, well, everything else. Maybe just let it happen naturally rather than sit down and have a, I don’t know, face to face.”

“I’m not sure, Peter,” Bucky gauged. “What would you feel if you Ned invited you to his birthday party and it ended up being, I don’t know, One Direction’s studio and they were all there?”

“One, Ned hates One Direction. Two, annoyed, I guess. Or fine. I don’t know!”

“I would tell him some of it, if not all of it. Maybe get MJ to help. Honesty-“

“Is the best policy,” Peter and Wanda recited immediately. “Yeah,” Peter tacked on, “we know.”

“So, tell me your plan.”

“I’ll tell Ned tomorrow. Invite him around after school. I’ll say about my party and that I’m Spiderman.”

“All of it then?”

“I can’t think of any other way to do it.”

“I think it’s for the best.”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“Well, you won’t know unless you try.”

“Yeah,” Peter sighed, leaning his head in his hand as he stared vacantly at the wall. Then, as if nothing had happened at all, he groaned and flung his head towards the table, catching them in his folded arms. “I hate life!” He declared towards the table, whilst Wanda stifled a laugh behind her hand.

“Don’t be dramatic. Life’s fine right now.”

“Right now,” Peter muttered, muffled by the sleeve of his hoodie.

Bucky almost grinned, resting his head on his forearms to get down onto Peter’s level. “You’re still a kid, Pete. Enjoy life whilst it’s still good.”

“You’re sounding your age,” Wanda warned from her corner, her legs up and resting on the table in a move that was decidedly Natasha. Clearly, Wanda was picking up some bad (in Bucky’s humble opinion) habits. 

“Good. I don’t know what it is about your generations but when I was growing up, old was seen as wise.” It wasn’t, really. Not always, anyway, but he’d pull the ‘when I was younger’ card for all it was worth before Steve revealed that Bucky was managing to follow his honesty code through sheer half-truths.

“There it is again.”

Peter laughed at the exchange and finally poked his head out of his arms, resting his chin on the backs of his palms. “Do I have to tell him?” He asked one more time.

“Yes,” Bucky and Wanda said together.

~*~

Bucky had planned Peter’s party, for lack of better things to do, down to the exact details, with Wanda as his trusty assistant. Never had he been in the Tower so much in one week. For the first time ever, he found himself growing closer to the Avengers, their relationships slipping into friendly territory from the awkward acquaintance stage they’d been stuck in for the last year. 

It had been good for him. The days that had been slipping into the darkness of his own mind had been perforated by small bursts of anticipation. He hadn’t quite dug himself out of the hole he’d built himself (well, Hydra had helped, but sometimes it was hard to fully accept that) but he was getting closer to doing so.

He and Natasha had a newfound rivalry going on, usually competed by Russian swearing, vodka drinking and one-upping each other in terms of ‘how shitty were our lives’ (Steve didn’t like the last one very much). Clint had bonded with him over Wanda, both of them looking more and more like they were co-parenting her as Bucky spent more time in what was essentially her house. If not for Steve’s laughter every time Bucky tried to chastise her, he’d probably be in full older-brother/dad mode (learnt from three sisters that were still a little blurry in his memory but there nonetheless). Tony still did not talk to Bucky if he could help it but he’d stopped outright ignoring him.

Best of all, Bucky had met Thor. It was practically love at first sight. Thor was the literal embodiment of science fiction. He was Bucky’s wet dream. He was better than Steve in every single way...except personality; lucky for Steve, Thor was still, at times, wildly arrogant and, when finally getting past the whole alien god thing, Bucky had realised it didn’t always make for the best conversation. He was hilarious, though, and brought them alcohol that could get them drunk, even if Bucky would only drink it whilst Steve was sober because he always wanted one of them to be in fighting condition. Paranoia, unfortunately, didn’t go away in a day.

But, aside from that, he had been actually getting on with the party. He’d gotten caterers that would arrive beforehand and lay out the food and then leave before Peter came, to respect his privacy. He got drinks that were teenager friendly (and not, because he really wanted to see Peter get tipsy on beer again, but he wasn’t going to tell Steve that). He got food that he knew Peter liked and had planned a cake with Aunt May that he had found out was Peter’s favourite (chocolate and vanilla double-layered cake with fudge-flavoured frosting because the kid was weird and also a genius). Wanda had compiled a playlist of Peter’s favourite artists and Bucky had checked that there was nothing too atrocious on there (he only ended up deleting three songs because, no, he wasn’t going to suffer through Old Town Road for the 1000th time for the sake of Peter’s birthday. But yes, he did accept Rockstar being on there on three separate occasions). 

All in all, everything was set to be perfect. It never would be because that was just how Bucky’s life went but he was at least confident that it wouldn’t be a complete failure. And if it was, Peter would be too terrified to actually tell him. That kid was polite beyond belief.

Now they only had the final preparations to go through. Bucky was setting up the speakers whilst Wanda was adjusting the trays of food and drinks with her usual perfectionist streak. Natasha had taken to lounging on the sofa and constantly telling Bucky that the speaker needed to move just a _little bit_ that way and oh, wait, no, just a little bit _that_ way. Steve had gone for a run, sick of Bucky’s constant worrying (he’d never had this sort of responsibility, okay, Steve? He wasn’t going to ruin this for Peter), saying he’d be back within the hour. The party would supposedly start then, but they’d all just assumed general tardiness. None of the Avengers were particularly punctual. 

Only Peter would be on time.

And he was. As were MJ and Ned, who both had seemingly come with Peter, holding bags with their gifts in them. “Hi, guys, it’s going to be a while until anyone shows so just put your bags in the corner and get some stuff to eat,” Bucky tried to smile but probably did a poor job. Peter beamed back anyway, rushing to the food tray and taking in the assortment with unmitigated want. MJ took her own and Ned’s bags to the corner and took out the presents to add to the stack of presents by the windows. The possibly, maybe, very large stack of presents, mostly consisting of Stark’s overbearingly rich-person presents and the Avengers' smaller, but no less kind, offerings. 

Ned didn’t move. He just...stared. Gaped, even, with wide eyes and a little terror in his posture. “I’m Bucky,” Bucky introduced, not bothering to hide his identity. It wouldn’t be hard to put together that he was the one that had supposedly been ‘teaching Peter Russian’, even if Bucky hoped he wouldn’t make any more connections between Bucky and a possible Hydra assassin. “I hear Peter told you some things.” Ned nodded mutely, staring at him with the same dazed expression as the Avengers’ common room. 

Natasha’s head suddenly popped up from the sofa, her red hair tucked behind her ears, giving her a softer look than was usually desirable for a Russian spy. “And who’s this?” She leered, the patent Black Widow smirk on her lips. 

“Ned. Leeds. Ned Leeds. Black Widow. Ma’am,” Ned answered disjointedly, whilst Peter and MJ stared with two wildly different expressions. Peter was definitely holding back a laugh but like the good friend he was, he seemed ready to jump in and save Ned from this no-doubt horrific situation. MJ, on the other hand, seemed completely unimpressed by the situation. And maybe, if Bucky was looking carefully enough, _embarrassed?_ Well, teenagers were embarrassed by everything, maybe that wasn’t a surprise.

Finally, Peter approached almost hurriedly. “Ned, meet some of my friends. Bucky, you know, my Russian teacher and friend. Well, he’s also helping me with Spiderman stuff. He can fight. Wanda, Scarlet Witch, she’s joining school in August. And Natasha, Black Widow, an Avenger.”

“Is she not an Avenger then?” Ned blurted, pointing at Wanda.

“Not publicly,” Wanda said with a small shrug. “I don’t want people around school knowing.”

“You’re coming to _our_ school?”

“Yeah…” Wanda’s words left out the implied ‘is that a problem?’

“So cool,” Ned whispered instead, turning to Peter. “You are literally friends with the Avengers. You work for Tony Stark!”

“Yeah, man. So, you know,” Peter did an odd range of movements that probably translated to ‘act normal’ but looked a bit more like…well, gibberish. But, the language of best friends was no foreign concept to Bucky, he got it.

“Are all the Avengers coming?”

“Should be,” Natasha said, propping her chin on his arms. “Bucky here planned it so we could all come.”

“Even Thor?”

“Even Thor,” Natasha agreed.

“ _So cool_.”

After that, things seemed to go back to normal. Or whatever was closest for people like the Avengers. Ned stayed close to Peter’s side, whilst Wanda and MJ paired off on the sofas, talking about school and MJ’s drawings, flickering through her small notebook and laughing at the stories that came with each one. MJ had a natural story-telling instinct, her humour coming in the deadpan delivery of the punchlines. Bucky liked it. Liked her. She’d be a good addition to their little team. 

As Bucky drew away, having handed them their drinks, he saw them start to confer about something decidedly more serious. He decided not to use his super-hearing to listen in and approach a lone Natasha. A dangerous species, he was aware, but fun nonetheless.

“Drink?” He offered, holding out the tray of juices. Posh ones, too, with weird flavours that wouldn’t make a single iota of sense to anyone back in the day. Alcohol would come later, when he wouldn’t be caught out so easily by prying eyes. When it was _busy_. And probably after Peter had opened his presents. If Peter wanted a drink (which Bucky, maybe, possibly, would give to him) then he was going to do it after the time he was at centre stage. Hopefully it wouldn’t matter. Bucky wasn’t out there to get Peter drunk, just give him a taste of adulthood, like his dad had done for him back in the day. Oddly, it was one of his best memories with his dad, sipping at his stale beer and pretending like it tasted great, talking man-to-man instead of father-to-son.

Natasha took a purple concoction from the tray, sipped at it and put it immediately on the small coffee table, where it would remain for the rest of the night. “Well hello, waiter. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Just doing my job. Without help. It’s a hard life for those in the service industry.” Natasha laughed and motioned for him to sit next to him. They chatted inanely until other guests started trickling in. Steve came earlier than expected, joining Bucky’s conversation with Natasha whilst Ned openly gaped at Steve’s broad shoulders (or general presence, but Bucky always liked to think it was the shoulders). He was followed closely by Bruce and Clint, who were already in a conversation when they walked in, who drifted towards the food trays, picking disinterestedly at the small appetisers that Bucky had painstakingly chosen with complete disregard for his effort. He didn’t mind. Too much. 

May came in a few minutes later, having just finished her last shift, laden with her own presents, and joined in with Clint and Bruce’s conversation. She was followed quickly by Vision, who lingered around the edges of the room, like he wasn’t quite sure how humans interacted at a party. Vision usually went off what he was seeing, though, so he’d join once he’d gotten the idea. Or just follow Wanda around like a lovesick puppy.

That left only Thor and Tony: of which neither were likely to come before the other. Thor was coming from off-world, presuming he managed to line up the timings right and come at the correct time (Asgardian days were much different to Earth days and the whole time difference of being on another planet was hard to factor into a schedule). Tony just liked being late. In fact, he took even more pleasure in being the _latest_. However, Pepper was likely to drag him down if they were made to wait around too long. 

“My bet’s that Tony comes next,” Clint suddenly piped up over the din. 

“I think it’s Thor,” Bruce added. 

“Tony,” Steve bet.

“Thor,” Bucky hedged. He and Steve were a team and if they went with both, they still kind of won, no matter the outcome.

Everyone’s eyes drifted to Natasha, who always had the last vote (after she realised that they all copied her vote the moment she put it forward). She hummed and hawed for a little too long before declaring, “Thor.”

She was right. As always.

Clint angrily threw his drink back and slammed it down on the bartop with a muttered “dammit.”

Thor barged in, large shoulders taking up the elevator space with an ease that Steve still hadn’t quite accomplished outside of the battlefield. “Greetings, friends. And happy birth day to the son of Parker!” He declared, in his usual cheerfulness. “I hope you have a wonderful day.” Peter blushed to the roots of his hair and muttered back a small “thanks” before turning back to Ned and continuing their frantic conversation. Ned seemed to be on the edge of an epileptic fit. 

After that, Tony didn’t take long to arrive (he’d clearly been watching JARVIS’ feeds again). “The man of the hour is here!” Tony boomed, holding up a bottle of champagne. 

“It’s Peter’s birthday,” Pepper reminded sagely. 

“Oh, right, to the actual man of the hour. Champagne?” He offered.

“He’s a kid!” Steve shouted before Peter could say yes. (Because he would, of course, say yes. He was a teenager, even if he was a smart one). 

“And?” Tony asked, earning him Pepper’s elbow in his stomach.

Either way, Tony’s arrival got the party truly started. Groups started to fracture and mingle. Ned ended up talking, starry-eyed, to a serious-looking Thor, who answered all his answers with the grace of a man who had been asked them many times before but understood why they were asked nonetheless. Peter was stuck between Tony and Steve, both enjoying himself and trying to do damage control. Steve and Tony got on like a house on fire, until the house was actually on fire and they started screaming at each other like enraged Chimpanzees. Peter’s job was to douse the flames as they appeared.

MJ, Wanda, Natasha and Pepper had created a small circle which they’d easily accepted Bucky into. They talked about a lot of mundanities, in a way only superheroes would be grateful for, but also about school and Wanda’s upcoming experiences. MJ was the only one with any kind of actual knowledge. Pepper’s knowledge was outdated, Bucky’s so old it didn’t even count and Natasha didn’t have any at all, although she’d clearly done her research. Well, actually, they all had. 

Clint was lingering around the presents, eating a bag of chips whilst watching the chaos, looking a little too cheerful for a man on his own, whilst Bruce stood at the bar, studying multiple varieties of drink before finally deeming one more suitable than the rest, subsequently downing it and then downing the second best. And the third. And fourth and…you get the point. May stood next to him, watching the spectacle with amused confusion. Vision lingered on the fringes, looking intently at the mixing process.

Only when Bruce finished did Bucky notice that they weren’t alcoholic, which made the situation make a whole lot more sense. Bruce was a man that couldn’t lose control; alcohol wasn’t a good idea.

The topic shifted as Bucky’s attention had been lost and Wanda, Natasha and Pepper were now discussing a recent mission whilst MJ listened carefully but with an air of disinterest of anyone who wasn’t actually involved in the event. Bucky shuffled closer, his back against the sofa with one knee up and the other outstretched, his hand draped over his knee. It was a forced casualness but did its job in setting MJ at ease. Bucky knew he could be imposing, even downright frightening when his training still lingered in the back of his mind, but he’d practiced breaking out of it, trying to be a bit more himself and not Hydra’s. 

“All this alright?” He asked, motioning to the room, where Tony and Steve had just gotten into another heated debate whilst Peter impressively played both sides (Bucky smiled; he’d had to do the exact same thing on many occasions) and Ned was slowly squeezing Thor’s bulging muscles.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Not sure if it feels real, though,” she admitted. “Didn’t really expect befriending Peter Parker would get me into an Avenger’s party.”

“Neither did I,” Bucky chuckled. “I may be close with Steve but before I met Peter, I’d barely talked to most of the people in this room. Didn’t really talk to anyone, honestly. Peter’s accidentally worked a miracle.”

“He’s…” she lost her words but it was no surprise, when Bucky spotted the small blush dotting the highest point of her cheekbones. It was well-masked by her darker skin but Bucky was trained to spot changes in a person’s body, to take advantage of it. And he would.

“Great, right? That’s why you like him.”

She gaped at him, floundered for a second before seemingly giving up. Letting out a big breath, she tucked her knees up to her chest, surrounded by her lazily circled arms. “He’s nice,” she finally said.

“He likes you too. You should ask him out. God knows he won’t do it.”

“Such modern thinking,” she teased, though her voice remained deadpan. It was Michelle’s speciality. “But it’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“It just isn’t.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“I just…I don’t know. It doesn’t feel like the right time.”

“Maybe not,” Bucky shrugged. “But maybe it is. Think about it.”

“And if I decide not to?”

“I’m not _forcing_ you to date him, jeez. I’m not that mean. Just think about whether you really want to. And if you do, _go for it_. Waiting around is pointless.”

“Such wise words.”

“Take it from the guy who’s witnessed ‘waiting around’ far too much.”

“Steve and Peggy?”

Bucky forced down a dramatic laugh and let out a small huff. “Yeah,” he agreed cryptically, “Steve and Peggy.”

~*~

Peter was only half a beer down when Tony announced that it was time to open presents, clearly losing patience in the time elapsed since Peter could have possibly opened his gift. Gifts, actually, but Bucky didn’t know - other than the huge one - which ones were from Tony. 

They unanimously agreed that Tony’s should be opened last, more to annoy him than the fear that he would overshadow them. In that vein, they grouped the presents by gifter and went from smallest to largest.

Peter sat by the massive pile, gaping at it, until Ned handed his over. “I can’t compete with the Avengers, man, so just get mine over with.” Peter laughed and cautiously tore the wrapping paper, revealing a large Star Wars t-shirt with the poster for A New Hope printed on the front.

“This is great!” Peter declared. “Retro, too. Where’d you get it from?”

“Amazon,” Ned shrugged, “they’ve got everything.” 

Peter laughed and thanked Ned again, before setting it aside and moving onto the next one, working his way through the smaller presents at the edge. MJ’s was next: a small blue party bag with a card sticking out the top. Peering inside, Peter gasped and brought out the sketch paper that had been slid down the side. “Oh my god,” Peter whispered, a red blush suddenly blasting on his cheeks. He stared for a bit longer before finally turning to MJ. “This is…this is, it’s amazing, MJ!”

“What is it?” Tony demanded, craning his neck to impossibly - seeing as he was on the other side of the room, facing Peter - look over Peter’s shoulder. 

“I drew him a picture,” MJ said, shuffling awkwardly in her spot. Despite her propensity for looking unaffected, Peter certainly made her squirm. Bucky had the best vantage point, being on the edge of their rough semi-circle and closest to Peter, so he subtly craned his neck, and tried not to think about how he was copying Tony and caught a glimpse of it. 

He could almost laugh.

The drawing was of Peter, a vivacious smile on his lips, his head drawn backwards like he was about to let out a laugh. He looked young but not in a way that was particularly bad and was probably more than endearing. He looked, plainly and simply, happy.

Bucky could have laughed. It was familiar in a way that was almost too good to be true. It looked like the very picture Steve had drawn him before fumblingly declaring that he’d loved him since he was 15 and it didn’t matter if Bucky didn’t requite and Bucky had cut him off with a kiss because he couldn’t listen to any more of Steve’s self-deprecating shit. It was a classic move for an artist. Cliche and stupid and goddamn romantic.

Steve seemed to have the exact same thought when Bucky looked up and they caught eyes, their communication transcending language as they wiggled eyebrows and made pointed eye contact. Steve beamed at him, even though he had his own dash of red splashed across his cheeks.

“Thank you,” Peter said solemnly, catching MJ’s eyes behind the curtain of hair that he’d drawn forwards to try and hide his blush. 

“No problem,” she said, her eyes stuck on his. They stared for a little longer. And longer. Until finally Tony grew bored and cleared his throat, making them jump apart and sending Peter flying towards the next gift.

In careful print, Natasha had written her name on the small rectangular box, meticulously wrapped in sleek, silver wrapping paper. It almost looked elegant, until Natasha piped in with, “apparently self-care books are all the rage now.”

Peter frowned and carefully pried the edges open, slipping the book out and staring at it. First, was the strikingly large tarantula on the cover, quickly followed by the large red print that stated: ‘how to care for a spider, a beginner’s guide’. 

Peter’s first reaction was silence, quickly followed by, “but it’s a tarantula on the front?”

Natasha shrugged. “It was published in the 70s. Don’t think they cared much for the distinction then.”

Then Peter laughed. Natasha’s sense of humour was downright stupid for the most part, mostly comprising of almost awkwardly impersonal jabs and barbs that struck a little too close to home. She was strange but that’s what was great about her (not that Bucky would ever say that to her face). 

“Thanks, Natasha,” he finally said with a wide grin, placing the book on the small pile of open presents at his side. 

Next, he reached for the other small party bag on the floor, this one a gaudy, neon red with a large tag on it reading ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!’, which was at least 7 exclamation marks too many and a definite barrage on Bucky’s eyes (and he’d literally seen someone's intestines outside of their body). Peter reached inside and brought out…a Spiderman figurine. An awful one at that. The proportions were boxy, making his width seem somehow equivalent to his length. His face was butchered with unspecific paint and they hadn’t quite seemed to grasp the general essence of what Spiderman looked like. 

“It’s horrific, isn’t it?” Wanda said, a wide smile pervading her face. 

“Why?” Peter gasped. “This is an abomination!”

“I have no idea who runs Spiderman merchandise but whoever it is was clearly not shown this.”

“Where did you even find this?”

“Online. Expensive shipping too.”

“You paid money for this?”

“Don’t worry, it was Stark’s money.”

“Hey!” Tony shouted indignantly. 

“You used Mr Stark’s money to get this? But I feel the urge to burn it.” 

“We could do a ceremony if you like. Give it a proper end.”

“Honesty, I- I think I want to.”

“Good. Anyway, that wasn’t really your present. I just thought you’d find it funny. But don’t open the other one now.” Suspicion written on his features, Peter capitulated and put the toy back in the bag, next to what Bucky could only presume was an envelope. 

“What is it?” Bucky whispered to Wanda, who’d taken the spot next to him. 

“I wrote him a letter. Don’t want him to read in front of everyone.”

“Not a bad idea.”

“There were some things I wanted to say,” she said with a shrug.

Peter moved onto the next gift, one of the smallest, almost the size of a ring box (which would have made Bucky worried, had Peter been in any sort of relationship. He may be teaching a sixteen-year-old to fight but he sure as hell wasn’t going to encourage him to get married). “This one’s mine,” May declared, a gentle smile on her face. 

May was honestly a great person. Bucky loved her, even if they hadn’t talked much. Protective, clever and kind, she was everything Peter needed after losing so many people in his life. Not all Aunts, especially that young, would step up to look after a teenager by themselves and even fewer would do so with such grace and care. Even if they were struggling a bit, just trying to make ends meet, she always got what was best for him and did what she could. 

And that wasn’t even mentioning how well May had taken the Spiderman thing. She didn’t like it, of course, and was a little wary of encouraging it, but she saw how it gave Peter purpose, how he felt like he was doing the right thing. As long as she was allowed her worry and he came home safe, she’d try and support him.

Sometimes, they reminded him of Steve and Sarah; the two of them against the world, holding their heads up high and not letting anything get them down. May and Sarah would have been fast friends.

Peter took off the wrapping paper and gasped. “AirPods!” He shouted. “Oh my god, this is amazing.”

“You got him AirPods?!” Tony suddenly shouted. “But! They’re Apple!”

“You don’t sell wireless earphones,” May pointed out sagely.

“Pepper, we’re going to make wireless earphones and we’re going to make them better,” Stark ordered. 

Pepper laughed and nodded kindly, in the way that looked almost terrifyingly like a mother humouring their child. “Of course,” she agreed.

“May, you shouldn’t have,” Peter said suddenly, eyes wide and her card in his hand. A hundred dollar note had fallen out onto his lap.

“You’re sixteen now, Peter, that’s a big one. You deserve a little spending money.”

“This is a lot, May,” Peter argued in the same way Bucky and Steve had fought back in the day when it came to money. Delicate but serious. 

“You deserve it,” she reiterated, “now open the next one.” 

Peter acquiesced, tucking the hundred dollar bill into his pocket with the care one would usually afford a baby, and picked up the next square. He didn’t hesitate, prying it open and unfolding the heavy material.

“Oh, this is my one!” Clint suddenly shouted, as if he hadn’t been aware of it before. 

Peter laughed again, looking at the front before turning it around so everyone could see. It was a bulky black hoodie, with Spiderman on the front, with red text on the top reading, ‘it’s Wednesday, my dudes’. 

“Nothing beats a good Vine reference,” Clint said, looking chuffed with himself as he leant back against his own sofa, a beer in his hand. Stark really needed to invest in more sofas, half of them were sitting on the floor. Or at least some beanbags or something.

Peter moved onto the larger presents then, going towards Bucky and Steve’s first. “We didn’t know which ones you preferred so we got a mix,” Steve explained as Peter revealed the three large lego sets Bucky (Steve could pretend) had chosen. It had been hell on earth to try and walk through the toy store but it gave him a better idea of what was popular, better than the internet anyway, and despite the loud noises, he still preferred to shop in person if he could. He didn’t like the uncertainty of what he was getting from the internet, even if he understood the value of the resource.

“This is amazing! It’s…a lot,” Peter said, as if to say, ‘am I supposed to keep all of these? I can return some if you want’. 

“It’s your sweet sixteenth,” Bucky said, even if that meant absolutely nothing to him. He didn’t get anything for his sixteenth birthday. The Great Depression had just steamrolled his family and they’d written off birthdays for the year. He had gotten a cake, though, even though the ingredients had doubled in price.

Peter thanked them, and then everyone else, profusely, as he moved onto the next gift. Bucky could see the way Peter was stuck between shock and gratitude. It was a lot to go from getting a few small gifts to sifting through a humongous pile from literal billionaires and superheroes alike. But Peter took it as well as he could, letting himself revel in the sheer amount of _stuff_ , stupid or serious, as he carefully folded the wrapping paper to be reused. 

Bruce’s came next. It wasn’t a surprise when it opened up to be a mix of herbal teas and a beginners guide to yoga. He had, in fact, given that to everyone for their birthday over the last year. Still, Peter didn’t know that and was looking excitedly at the flavours, lingering on the peppermint for longer than necessary as he took in the smell and said another sincere “thank you.”

There were only two people left in the room whose presents hadn’t been opened (it didn’t escape Bucky’s notice that Vision hadn’t gotten him anything, but to be fair, he didn’t really expect the android to. He hadn’t expected most of the Avengers to). 

Peter went to Thor’s first, seeing as it was smaller, even if it would no doubt be just as - if not more - impressive than Tony’s. Peter unravelled it like it was a treasure chest, cautiously picking up the silver balls inside with the intrigue that only a scientific mind could achieve, ignoring the lack of artistry of the smooth spheres in place of digging to find the functionality. 

“Oh, I must explain!” Thor said. “Squeeze it twice.” Peter followed the orders, his hand contracting twice, before the room exploded into a vibrant painting of colour. It was like they’d stepped right into a film, where nothing quite seemed real, even though it was just superimposed over their own landscape. It was like fireworks up close, entrancing and magical. Decidedly extra-terrestrial. 

In a hurry, Peter squeezed it again and found that it turned the sphere off before he dived for the next one. This was no less impressive. Instead of colour, this one was an X-ray, far more useful if a little less aesthetic. “It allows you to look inside of your surroundings.”

“Can everyone see this?” Peter asked, his eyes wide as he scanned the room. 

There was a collection of nods and Tony’s, “why weren’t we given cool Asgardian tech?”

“I shall gift you something on your next holiday, Stark,” Thor vowed.

Peter stared for another minute before turning it off and setting it aside, reaching for the last one. He squeezed it twice. 

Chaos erupted. The room was flooding, water gushing from outside for no rhyme or reason. Panic ensued, superheroes bolting in all directions as they either tried to find solutions or just run away from it all.

Bucky leapt to his feet, followed closely by Steve, to try and examine the source whilst Tony summoned his suit and started rapidly talking to JARVIS whilst also trying to get Pepper out of the room.

“It is alright!” Thor boomed but no one was listening to him. Natasha was glaring at her surroundings, unmoving, but prepared for the following attack. Wanda appeared…fine. “FRIENDS!” He roared, in a voice fitting of a king and a god. The room stopped. “It is an illusion. I should have forewarned you. Its purpose is to cause disruption. It seems it has been successful.”

Peter was staring at the orb before he slowly tensed his hand and watched the water to recede, leaving only the harried Avengers in its wake. The room remained tense.

“Sorry?” Peter tried.

“Not your fault,” May said, “but just don’t activate it again.” Peter nodded easily, extremely carefully putting the orb with the others, hoping desperately that they wouldn’t activate just by hitting each other.

It took a few minutes from everyone to calm down from the action. Bruce had outright left and hadn’t come back and Bucky had taken up a resident spot by the walls instead of by the sofa, Steve sitting with him in solidarity. Wanda had a knowing smirk on her face; as someone who made illusions for a job now, she wasn’t going to be fooled by a small gadget. Tony, finally, called off his armour and dragged Pepper back in, a petulant frown on his face. 

“Well, at least my presents won’t terrify everyone,” Tony announced, pointedly eyeing his two boxes: one small, the other at least half as tall as Peter himself. Thor had the gall not to look guilty at all. If anything, he looked a little amused.

Once everyone looked just about settled, Peter reached for the smaller box, unravelling it with as much care as anything else. Then, he gasped. Pulling out a small box, he gaped openly at the dark packaging, the Stark Industries logo carved in the front. “Is this…” Peter looked up at Tony, mouth floundering like a fish, “is this a _phone_? Did you get me a phone?”

“Not even on the market yet. Highest specs you can imagine. A little mini version of JARVIS in there too. Should help you out when you’re on patrol. It’ll recognise trouble from a mile away.” And probably try to turn him away, knowing Tony, but the thought was still there. 

“This is…”

“I know, I know. I’m wonderful. Now open the next one.” Peter nodded mutely, his eyes jumping back to the phone every now and then, making passing eye contact with May, who looked equally surprised, if not a little delighted herself. No one was going to stop Tony from giving Peter another safety net. 

Peter had to stand up to open this one. There was no wrapping paper; it was just a plain white box, ominously standing amongst the other presents like the Washington Monument. Peter pried the top open and looked inside and-

“Oh my god,” he gasped. “Oh my god!” Peter shouted, ripping open the box with a lack of care that seemed like a distinct difference from everything that came before it. When the cardboard laid in tatters on the floor, the whole party could finally see what Tony had spent so long cooking up.

“I called it the Spider-Bot. Unoriginal, I know, but it’s distinct. I thought that if you were going to be working in the lab with me, you should have your very own assistant.” 

It was clever, Bucky thought. Without having to declare it outright, Tony had just told Peter that he was more than just his assistant, or his intern. He was using Tony’s labs to create stuff for himself, to become the genius of the next generation, not shadowed by Tony’s title or reputation. It gave Peter his very own position. 

“I think this is the best thing I’ve ever gotten in my life,” Peter whispered, barely listening to Clint’s outraged - if entirely fake - “hey!” as he slowly moved his hand to reach out towards the robot. It beeped, spinning on its axis and clutched Peter’s hand.

“Is this what having a baby’s like?” Peter whispered, so quiet that anyone without super-hearing probably didn’t hear it. As it was, Bucky was left to quietly snicker in the corner alone as Steve tried to tamper his own smile. 

Maybe that beer was hitting a little more than it should have.

But for now, Peter was happy, and that was more than Bucky could ever ask for.

~*~

Once the cake’s candles were blown out, Bruce had returned and everyone had their own slice, things got a little out of hand. Somehow, Peter had cornered Bucky, breaking away from his original group of suspicious-looking teenagers. 

“You are the best, Bucky, I mean it,” Peter slurred. “You are _so_ great. Like, you got my Lego! LEGO! Like, it’s that amazing! You are just…” he hiccuped, “you helped me out so much. I owe you, like, big time. Without you, I don’t even know,” he hiccupped again, followed by an almost hysterical laugh, “I can’t,” he hiccuped, “stop,” again, “hiccuping.” Followed then by even more hysterics.

Bucky watched the show with amused worry. He’d only given Peter two beers, which either meant he was a serious lightweight or that someone else had also been sneaking him beers. Or, that Bucky’s spy training was paying off and Peter was managing to sneak _himself_ drinks. A likely answer, actually, seeing as MJ was stumbling slightly and Ned was face down on the floor as May tried to help and also _not laugh_ (because she was a responsible parent and totally didn’t find drunk teenagers absolutely hilarious). May would definitely chew them out tomorrow, but that was on them. (And if anyone asked, Bucky had _nothing to do with it_.) 

“Thanks, Pete.”

“No, I mean it, you’re amazing. Without you, I wouldn’t have any of this. You are, like, a secret hero. So much better than Captain America.”

Bucky threw his head back and laughed. “You hear that, Steve?” He called out. “I’m better than you!” Steve, as he stood by the bar with Wanda and Vision, frantically looking between them like he was trying to solve a puzzle, flipped him the bird and continued his conversation regardless.

“Peter Benjamin Parker!” May’s voice cut through the noise. The party went deadly silent. Apparently, May had been allowing Ned's lack of sobriety due to lack of actual blood relation but Peter was a different story. Whoops, Bucky thought, probably shouldn’t have drawn attention to them.

“I am _so dead_ ,” Peter drunk whispered which, in turn, meant that he basically shouted it in Bucky’s ear. God, teenage drunks were the worst. Or the best. Depending on your own situation. 

“What is this?” She demanded as she pushed in beside Bucky. 

“I’m,” he hiccuped, “fine.” Real good performance, Peter. Real good.

“We are going home. Right now. How did you even get like this?”

Peter, because he was an honest kid with far too nice a heart, pointed to the liquor cabinet in the corner. Tony’s private stash, hidden enough that it was actually easier to steal from for it. Oh goddammit, Peter had been drinking _whiskey_ . Even Bucky thought that was a step too far. Not that he hadn’t been drinking whiskey at sixteen, fine, but that didn’t mean it was a _good_ thing. 

“You were _stealing_?!” 

“Technically, no one said we _couldn’t_ ,” Peter slurred.

“You are in so much trouble, young man,” May said in her best ‘I am your mother, please listen to me, even though I have no idea what I’m doing’ voice. “We are going home. Now.”

In the deadly silence of the room, Ned groaned into the floor. “And we’re getting Ned home too so he can explain this to his own parents. MJ?” The girl looked up, blinked a few too many times, but could either hold her liquor better, drank less or was just much better at acting sober as she waved May off. “I’m fine, Miss Parker. I’m staying with Wanda.” Huh, Bucky thought, nice to see they were hitting it off. Bucky almost wouldn’t have suspected it.

May dragged the two boys off and finally, the room started to talk again, although people were now more likely to be packing up than drinking more. With the actual subject of the party gone, the night finally dwindled down.

As Bucky was boxing up the last few of his snacks, Steve approached. “Did you give Peter alcohol?”

Bucky gasped dramatically, a small smile wobbling the edges of his lips. “Who do you take me for? He’s sixteen!”

“Exactly. You have always taken a very liberal stance on underage drinking.”

“What! I drank with my dad when I was fourteen and look how I turned out!” Silence. “I was healthy. Your ma gave you whiskey half the damn time for the pain.”

“And I wasn’t very healthy, was I?”

“Eh, you were fine,” Bucky lied, butting his arm against Steve’s. “But to answer your question truthfully, I only gave Peter two beers. That’s perfectly acceptable!” He practically shouted at Steve’s grave look. “He was the one who decided to steal the whiskey.”

“And you don’t think giving him beer encouraged him?”

“Oh, the kid fights megalomaniacs in his spare time, Steve. I think he’s grown up quick enough to have a bit of teenage fun. And with May looking like that, it’s not like it’s going to happen again any time soon.”

Steve sighed. “We’ll agree to disagree.”

“Steve Rogers backing down? Well I never.”

“Shut up, jerk.”

“Make me.”

“Oh god, you’re drunk too.” Bucky didn’t know why Steve sounded so surprised; he’d thought that was rather obvious.

“Of course I am. You weren’t and Thor’s here, so…”

“Let’s get you home,” Steve sighed, grabbing Bucky’s arm. “I’m sure Tony has people who can help clear up.”

“Nope. These are my snacks and I’m bringing them home. If you want to get home, hurry this up and help me.”

Steve let out a long-suffering sigh and capitulated with a small, “fine, but you’re doing the dishes tomorrow.”

Bucky let out a too-loud laugh and smirked. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Community vote. Do you guys prefer Spiderman or Spider-Man? Do I need to change everything because I realised that it's bloody hyphenated (a fact I have managed to forget at least 20 times over the years).
> 
> I just realised that JARVIS also isn't supposed to be alive anymore but for now, we're going to assume that he came back or something. Bit weird with Vision there but this is fan fiction, who cares!


	11. Interlude II: Wanda's Letter (and a thank you)

To Peter,

I have never written a letter before, so I am sorry if this is clunky but seeing as your birthday has passed, I thought it would be nice to do something like this for you. In Sokovia, it is common to write long messages in cards but the tradition came from letter writing. I remember watching my grandmother writing them when I was little and wanting to write one myself. 

There is something I would like to say so I will do my best to do so in only so many words.

You have changed my life for the better, Peter. You’ve changed a lot of lives for the better. I don’t think you realise that. Your stubbornness and bravery are why James originally took you under his wing. If not for you, he would have never looked at me twice. He might not have even been in the Tower to have seen me. If not for you, Michelle would not be getting this training, nor would I know her (and I hope we will be friends, so I guess I should be grateful to you for that too).

Before Ultron, I was an orphan. During, I was a force of evil. Now, I am using my powers for good. I am going to school again. I might even be able to get a degree. I have lost so much: my brother, most of all, who I think of each and every day. But then you make another joke or laugh like it’s your last time and I see him and although it is still painful, and I miss him more than anything, I also am assured that he’d be happy for me. He would not want me to cry, or to give up, or to take myself away from the fight. If he were here, he’d make me laugh, just as you do. No one can ever replace Pietro in my heart but if there was anyone that could, it would be you. In the short time I have known you, you already feel like a brother and I hope that we will stay long friends and maybe one day, even fight alongside each other.

I hope this does not come across as overly sentimental (god-forbid) but I also want you to understand the depth of my feelings in a way I don’t think I’d really be able to say out loud. You have changed my life, Peter, and put me on a better path. You and James both. I can only hope I have done anything to help you in the same way. I think I have in some ways. We have both suffered loss, we are both orphans and we both want to fight. We are, in many ways, the same and I hope that even that modicum of similarity brings you comfort, as it does to me.

If I had more words, I would put them down, but words have never been my strong point (one day, your Sokovian might be good enough that I’ll be able to write to you in that instead. I can assure you, I am a much better writer in Sokovian). Nevertheless, my hope is to convey to you that you are special: to me, to James, to the Avengers. You have done so much. You have changed the path we were all on, the one I saw with Ultron, where chaos reigned and friendships splintered. I am grateful. So, so grateful.

Lots of love,

Wanda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughts and comments are truly appreciated :)
> 
> (To impose the same question as you on last time: Spider-Man or Spiderman. Do you guys have a preference?)


	12. Bucky II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has undergone a lot of treatment but I am a lot happier with the outcome because of it. I didn't really start this fic with the idea that I'd be doing much research but I'm glad I did the even small amount I ended up doing. I like putting real facts in fics, especially comedies. I think it adds another dimension to it. In light of that, be prepared for something a little more heavy this chapter (though don't worry, I've dashed in a bit of humour as well). Enjoy!
> 
> \+ people have raised fears that this fic will be another ‘blame Tony’ fic. I can assure you it’s not and things get solved (or at least take those steps) in the sequel.

It’s a common thought that when things are on the up, that’s the moment everything goes to shit. That wasn’t quite true, Bucky thought. It was more that the shit felt that much worse when compared to the general high you had been flying before. Not that Bucky had been doing brilliantly by any means but his small downturn had been followed by a persistent climb that hadn’t tripped him up yet. 

So, of course, a boulder came down, splattered him to the god damn path before picking him up and planting him right back down at the bottom of it with the words, “it’s time.” Bit melodramatic, Bucky thought, but he wasn’t going to deny Steve the chance to act like he was a movie hero, rather than just a regular old hero in the regular old world. Even more than that, it was downright terrifying. 

“Why?”

“Ellis’ term is ending and he’s not running again. If there’s a chance that you’re going to get pardoned, it’s now. It has to be before November. Any new president, good or bad, isn’t going to pardon you as their first act, it’s too controversial.”

“Thanks for the good faith,” Bucky sighed, though he didn’t mean it. Although Steve was still socially inept when it came to anyone he was attracted to (predominantly all women, and Bucky), at least he was honest.

He was regretting bringing Steve out for dinner. 

Well, kind of. He’d ordered takeout and then said they could eat it on the roof, where no one could possibly take a picture of him. (Fine, it was a bit crap but Friday night plans were hard as a possible fugitive). Still, despite the bad planning, it was beautiful up here. Between the splattering of sunset orange on the horizon and the timid breeze of New York summer (a blessing, after the persistent heatwave that plagued the days), it was something of a bubble in the chaotic world around them. Almost silent, even when the streets were bustling, with nothing but each other for company. 

“You know I don’t mean it like that. I’m being a realist.”

“I know you are, Rogers, doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Steve sighed and leant back into his deck chair, the squawk deafening in the evening’s quiet. Turning his head, he looked Bucky in the eye. “I want you to be free. Us, to be free. Imagine it. You could start doing outdoor training, we could go on dates,  _ actual _ dates, you could actually get some sun for once.”

“You calling me pale, Irish?”

“You want to compare?”

At least three minutes was lost to arguing over whose skin tone was darker than the others, arms outstretched and hazy under the slowly dimming light. It was a draw, but they still continued to fight. Steve won, of course, but only because Bucky let him. He was nice like that. (God, they were no better than teenagers). 

When they finally finished, they left the place empty of sound, letting themselves find their words rather than throwing their punches. It was something new to get accustomed to but useful, nonetheless.

“I’ll be here for you throughout the whole thing. It’s gonna be messy but we can do it together,” Steve said, staring at the horizon for a moment before he looked back at Bucky, locking eyes. Steve was good at that; the sincerity, the honest, all in one conquering stare. 

“You really think I should?”

“If it all goes wrong, you can finally teach me Russian and we’ll go live in the Siberian forest like two old bears.” 

Bucky snorted. “What?” Steve asked, frowning.

“Don’t worry. You just-“

“What!”

“Just…bears. You know? Like…”

“No?”

“God, you’re old.”

“You’re older-“

“So, say I do go through with this,” Bucky interrupted, diverting them before they could go off on another useless tangent. “What happens next?”

“First we have to reveal your files, fully. Not the Hydra dump, everything. Including your name and picture. Then we start rallying for a pardon so we can circumvent a trial.”

“What happens if I go to trial?”

“The likelihood of success is…questionable. We don’t know what will happen. Based on history, it’s not in our favour. But, you are an exceptional case.”

“So a pardon is the fast track?”

“In a way. It’s...complicated, more so for your case. The official process states it has to have been five years since you committed your last crime. But, in your case, it’s not entirely clear that the crime was yours and it’s high profile. Nixon managed to get pardoned in two years. We’re going to try to use my reputation and the circumstances to push it to a few months.”

“What’s my job in all this?”

“Get on with your life, avoid the news and act like the innocent man you are.”

“Am I?”

Steve gritted his teeth. “I don’t want to argue about this again.”

With a sigh, Bucky capitulated with a quiet, “fine,” but couldn’t help adding, “but we still disagree. Just so you know.”

“I know,” Steve managed, as if it caused him physical pain to say it. Bucky’s self-recrimination seemed to hurt Steve more than Bucky himself but that didn’t mean he didn’t cling to it. It was logic, through and through. Bucky knew it wasn’t a black or white situation, hence why the court case was so difficult, but even he couldn’t let Steve get away with trying to paint him as the epitome of honour and greatness. Bucky was brainwashed, manipulated and tortured. But he also didn’t run, even when he became more lucid, or kill himself back in the very beginning when he clearly could have. Instead, he stayed and many people died for it. 

Steve would argue that Hydra would have killed them anyway. But Bucky knew better. He knew what he was; the shots he could make that no other man could, the kills he could execute in impossible silence. 

The end of his life could have meant the continuation of many other good people’s lives. Bucky wasn’t going to shy away from the truth. Acceptance was the first stage of moving on.

“So, life as usual?” Bucky said instead.

“For now, yes.”

“Well, that I can do.”

“So you’re alright with this?”

“Maybe not alright, but I want to go ahead with it.” He didn’t have any other choice. He was going to be found sooner or later. He knew that the best way to beat the system was to be  _ faster  _ than the system. Chances were, it wouldn’t work, but if there was anything Bucky had learnt from Steve, it was dogged determination.

“Good,” Steve said decidedly and let the quiet wrap back around them, both of them staring at the slowly descending sun with soft eyes and turbulent minds. 

It was the only thing they could do.

~*~

Paintball. 

This was Bucky’s dream.

Nevermind how little Stark and Bucky got on, the man was a god for executing this. The gym had been transformed, blockades and camouflaged structures constructed over a rough terrain that must have taken Stark the week to implement and would take another week to take out again. The rafters (or trusses, as Steve had corrected, but come on, they were rafters) had been covered up so they couldn’t be consistently walked across but still in convenient places if a certain someone wanted to swing across the gym. It almost felt real, if not for the odd stale smell that showed how little it had been worn in.

Bucky had scanned it over yesterday, marking useful spots. It was diverse. Predominantly, it was desert terrain, but it had been interspersed with tangled plants that would provide useful cover. The structures were all wooden but some had metal roofs that would be useful in catching people’s reflections. 

“Ok,” Bucky said, gathering the group around him. They were all dressed in black-tac gear, protective enough that it wouldn’t hurt too much if they were hit but flexible enough that it wouldn’t restrict their movement. Stark designed, Bucky approved. Though next time, Bucky would ask if he could remove the new car smell, it felt like it was burning his nostrils. “This isn’t about brute strength, this is about skill. Normal match; three strikes and you’re out. Everyone has the same guns but choose your paint colour. Limited rules apply. Wanda, you can fly but no use of mind powers, okay? I want you to practice your basics.” Bucky was still struggling to get through to her on that front but by slowly limiting her powers a bit at a time, he was making small bouts of progress. It would have to be enough. “Peter, use your basic suit. I know you and Stark have been fiddling with the new metal one but it gives you too much of an advantage in a confined space.”

“Aw, man,” Peter complained, though he didn’t seem to care  _ that _ much. 

“MJ, I’ve got something for you.” Bucky walked a few strides into the basecamp - a tent-like structure that reminded him a little too much of the war with its green tarp and musty stench - and opened the weapons lockers that Stark had set up. There were three boxes filled with guns, lined up neatly in rows, but at the end there was a small chest, perfectly square with metal edges and a sleek black finish that looked like it had no place in the otherwise worn landscape.

Bucky opened it with a pop and took out the carefully presented weapon inside, courtesy of Stark (due to some rather long communication lines that meant Bucky had still not actually talked to Stark since the beginning of this whole process). “Peter has web-shooters, Wanda has magic,” Bucky said, turning back to MJ, “it’s time you had your own weapon.”

Bucky approached carefully, flipping it over so MJ could see the surface. “Seeing as we’ve only been doing hand-to-hand so far, I’d thought I’d give you something that would get you near enough to put your skills to use.” MJ gaped at it, staring at the perfectly circular shield.

It wasn’t quite Steve’s shield but it was close. Circular and concave, it looked almost identical. But instead of vibranium, it was an aluminium alloy that was a lot less sturdy but a lot lighter, similar to that of a plane’s outer-casing. It gave the impression of Steve’s shield whilst being a lot easier to hold and throw without enhancements. And instead of the slightly gaudy American themed paint-job, Stark had done a much sleeker grey design, with veins of white paint coalescing in the middle with a small black M painted in the middle. Subtle but practical, it felt like a good complement to MJ’s style. 

“You can’t bring it out of the tower because legally we can’t give weapons to minors but you’re fine to use it here whenever you want,” Bucky said. “It’s up to you.”

MJ beamed as she held it. “Awesome,” she whispered, pushing her arm through the straps. “I want to keep it,” she said decisively, throwing her arm forward to see how it moved, a thin slicing sound perforating the quiet hum of the air vents. 

Peter was blatantly staring at this point, his eyes a little too wide, whilst Wanda laughed quietly at him. Finally, Peter saw what was going on. “What?” He tried, trying to mask his rather blatant expressions.

“You’re staring,” Wanda teased.

“No I’m not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too-”

“Okay, I think that’s enough,” Bucky interrupted, feeling too much like a parent for his comfort. This new... _ bickering _ situation was an adjustment for all of them, though not one Bucky particularly hated. Ever since Peter had read Wanda’s letter, the two of them had seemed far closer - for more like  _ siblings _ \- and been far more willing to open up, even if MJ’s presence could sometimes make Peter a little slow to speak. 

If not for the whole privacy speech Steve had given him after he’d come in, he probably would have stolen the letter and read it himself.

But, even without the letter, Bucky was glad to see them getting closer. Slowly, they were forming into a team with him at the head. But to be a true team - a  _ successful _ team - they needed to trust each other. They needed to care about each other. 

“Everyone ready?” After a chorus of nods, Bucky led them into the basecamp and went over a few of the more basic rules before suiting them up with basic materiel and letting them scatter across the course. 

Bucky kept an eye on all of them, noting their positions, as he went to the side of the room where a small panel showed a timer. It was Bucky’s request, to make this more of a training exercise than just fun and games, adding another layer of difficulty to the already difficult terrain. A time limit would force them out of hiding and towards the fights, if any of them wanted to win. It would also encourage them to hide better, if people were constantly scattered around the open, searching. It would refine their skills more precisely than a long match could. One day, maybe; he could bring the true Winter Soldier skills out of the bag.

Under JARVIS’ control, a sound would ring out to start and finish the game, as well as when someone was finally out.

Pressing the button, he was given sixty seconds to find a location before the deafening boom started the match. Eyeing his first spot, he pressed the small ‘start’ button and ran.

He’d barely made it into position when the sound blasted out of the surround speakers and the adrenaline flooded into Bucky’s system. He’d never be sick of this; the pounding of his heart, the giddy feeling of running at full speed without real stakes but a goal nonetheless. It was almost like a sport, except  _ better _ . 

He still had to be careful, especially with MJ. And despite his best friend Anxiety’s best efforts, it wasn’t all bad. The non-lethality gave him a true challenge, especially against weaker opponents. When combined with the competition of magical powers and spider webs, he had to work hard to strategise, working his mind that felt different from the Winter Soldier’s practically robotic assessments. This was different. Now, he had to sift through the options, make up his mind and instead of settling for the most boringly efficient idea, he could go for the option that sounded genuinely  _ fun _ .

So fun he had.

Peter, taking on Bucky’s previous advice, had started to use his webs, charting the room from above whilst Wanda flew around the wooden structures, scoping everyone out for herself, creating problems for Bucky’s own attempts. The room was silent except for the heavy sound of his breaths and the small swishing sounds of magic and webs alike. Even with super-hearing, it was hard to tell them apart, which could cause problems later on.

MJ was nowhere to be seen. Good, Bucky thought. Her rapid improvement over the last few weeks never failed to spark a small flame of pride in his chest. 

Having scoped out the situation, Bucky decided to do what he was good at: showing off. Scampering up the tallest structure in the arena, a towering wooden hut on struts that lifted it a few metres off the ground, he drew their attention with a single gunshot, aiming for a blind spot, hoping it might draw MJ out of her hiding place. It didn’t, but it did turn Peter around and a swish of air told him Wanda was doing the same. He waited until they were both in his sights, their guns raised to aim at his chest before he backflipped off the building, using his weight to spin around the approaching bullets, and shot up towards the two sky-bound figures as he fell, landing with a perfect roll that took him straight underneath the struts before they could shoot back.

The thud spread throughout his body but was easily ignored as he heard the splatter of paint find its targets. MJ, Bucky: 3. Peter, Wanda: 2. 

“NO!” Peter screamed from above them, meaning Wanda had likely used the situation to her advantage. She was good, Bucky thought, and was going to be hard to beat. Well, that put Peter down to one almost immediately. This timer really was paying off (maybe too well?). 

Bucky got out of the way before either of them came looking for him, crawling through the fake undergrowth - ignoring how the dying branches scraped noisily against his cheeks - until he found a small dugout that would shade him well, almost completely dark from his vantage point, providing an adequate hide-out whilst Peter and Wanda continued to chase after each other. 

He army-crawled faster, driven by the sight of safety, when he heard the small scratch of metal, someone shifting with a weapon inside.

Stark had done well to make the shield grey, meaning it didn’t reflect light well, but you still couldn’t make something as large as that completely soundless, especially with someone so inexperienced using it. Changing tactics immediately, Bucky took a chance, hoping he wasn’t wasting precious bullets, and shot twice into the small cave, hearing a clang and a muffled “ouch.”

Gotcha.

Bucky: 3. MJ, Wanda: 2. Peter: 1. 

Bucky ran, darting across the field to put distance between him and his attackers, zig-zagging to make it almost impossible to aim. It was tough. The sand was slippy and even his combat boots couldn’t seem to find purchase on the uphill slopes. He headed towards a cluster of buildings nearer the basecamp, hidden by two fake trees that wouldn’t provide adequate cover but would reduce the risk of being hit. Except he was up against telekinesis, so when he dodged out of the last bullet's path - trees or not - it flamed red and changed direction, right into his side. 

“Shit,” he hissed, staring down at the red splash of paint, far too vibrant to be anything near blood. Definitely Wanda then. She had the red paint (much to Peter’s complaint), whilst Peter had blue and MJ silver. Bucky had wanted black but realised it wouldn’t show well enough on the dark protective clothing so had gone with pink. If he wasn’t allowed to be subtle, he was gonna be goddamn ostentatious. 

And anyway, he liked pink.

Still, he was only one hit down when he managed to get behind the small 3/4 hut, where he could see any redirected bullets before they hit him. It would also create a blindspot for Wanda, who couldn’t aim bullets she could no longer see. It should have been foolproof, except, apparently, Wanda and Peter had done something they should have done weeks ago: they teamed-up. 

Peter used his webs to rip off the back of the structure, the wood making a horrible crunch as it was ripped from its connections. Wanda floated in at lightning speed, a blur of red surrounding her as she held up her gun, eye aligned with the scope to make a perfect shot.

Bucky dived to the side but there was nothing to protect him from bullets that could redirect themselves, especially with nothing but an incredibly heavy - and completely toppled - wooden panel to defend him. He could have lifted it, given time, but not within the seconds he had to spare. 

Wanda fired her shot, a splatter of red painting his heart. Bucky tried to dive again but Peter had already followed suit, the blue paint coating the exact same spot, creating a murky purple spot on Bucky’s chest. It should have been impossible for two kids who had never trained with guns before, but Bucky had learnt not to underestimate either of them (or Wanda’s more subtle abilities). 

Goddammit.

The cannon boomed, declaring Bucky out, as Wanda and Peter shared a celebratory cheer. (Wait, was that the  _ Hunger Games _ sound? Bucky had watched the movie a few months ago with Steve and hated it - child murder hit a little too close to home - but he would still recognise that sound anywhere). With minimal fuss, he trundled back to the ‘base area’ where he could see most of the pitch and watch the rest of the match play out.

He was angry but he was smiling, watching as Peter and Wanda turned on each other, both ducking quickly out of the way of each other’s shots. Peter was webbing up the pellets that started moving directions and Wanda had put up a forcefield to fend for herself. So, just as Bucky had taught, MJ snuck up behind her, shield raised, and shot her in the back.

MJ: 2. Peter and Wanda: 1. 

Wanda was now trapped between them, unable to fend off everything and turn her bullets. Instead, she floated upwards and out of reach, darting backwards so Peter and MJ were facing each other. Neither moved to shoot each other, both a little wide-eyed, like they were stuck in some sort of Mexican standoff. Bucky watched intently as Wanda raised her gun at Peter, the pellet moving so fast that Peter wouldn’t have been able to dodge it if he tried. Except MJ was already sprinting forwards and with milliseconds to spare, threw the shield into the bullet’s path and left herself open to attack.

Wanda shot twice and MJ was out, not looking all that displeased. Whilst Wanda was still facing MJ, Peter used it to his advantage and shot right into Wanda’s blindspot, a splatter of blue paint coating her side. Wanda was out.

That declared Peter the winner.

Peter cheered loud enough for a crowd and swung up with his webs and into the basecamp, grinning like a fool. “I won!” He shouted, as if he’d been told it was Christmas already. He was already stripping himself of the gear, revealing the usual spiderman outfit underneath (Peter had taken to wearing it instead of his workout clothes. Bucky thought that might have had something to do with showing off to a certain crush, but who was he to tell). 

The other two followed him quickly. Wanda looked impressed and was holding MJ’s shield in her hands, turning it over as if to test it herself. She sparked up her own shield for a second, eyeing it carefully, the irritation written all over her face. “Can we practice using my all-round shield?” She asked Bucky.

“Of course.” Bucky was planning to anyway. “You’re losing whenever you’re ganged up on. We can clear that up and you’ll practically be undefeatable,” Bucky said with unmistakable pride. Then he turned, trying to frown but unable to stop the quirking of his lips. “And MJ, that was stupid, but it was impressive.” A classic Steve move, through and through. Even known to be a classic Bucky move from time to time. MJ just shrugged, her shoulders fidgeting like she wasn’t used to the praise. An easy fix, Bucky thought, and deemed it important to start giving her more. It wasn’t exactly a hardship.

“I can’t believe I won,” Peter sighed, dazed. Bucky laughed, something unravelling in his chest. These sessions were as unmistakably good for him as they were for them and even though he knew he’d have to tell them the news later, he found himself breathing through it, enjoying the moment rather than letting the seeping dread ruin the here and now. It felt like a little bit of freedom in the cage he was building himself.

“Again then?”

“Hell yeah!”

~*~

The paintball setup meant Bucky had delayed their usual chats until after training. He’d rearranged the whole week, actually, seeing as the gym had been under construction, moving his science and math lessons to a Wednesday, after the usual languages class (where Peter was steadily, if slowly, improving). MJ had joined them for the first time, helping Wanda with some of the more complex math she’d need for the entrance exam. That left their Saturday mostly free to talk, and for Bucky to bring them the news (not that he’d planned that at the time, seeing as he’d only found out himself yesterday).

Bucky ordered them to go have showers and change before meeting him up at their conference room (JARVIS had been kind enough to make it theirs now, although Bucky wasn’t quite sure why). 

Bucky was the first up, taking a seat and letting his leg bounce to release the slowly building energy. Sometimes being a ‘super-soldier’ was more a curse than a blessing and the constant energy that had gotten him through his nightmares also turned on him whenever he didn’t use it up. Apparently, even paintball wasn’t enough to entirely tire him out, even if the next two rounds had built up a healthy amount of sweat on his skin.

Still, he’d done his best to work his way down from the adrenaline. He’d gotten himself a tea rather than a coffee (or rather, he’d asked Steve to go get him one to save time) and dressed himself up. He’d gotten a new pink, fluffy sweater to replace the one Peter had first spilt coffee on and was wearing his usual black, skinny jeans to balance it out. It felt both close enough and entirely distant from the Winter Soldier to make him comfortable: soft and dangerous, all in one.

Sipping at his drink, Peter came next, his hair damp on his head and the rest of him just as scruffy. Peter liked it like that, said it was an excuse to wear what were essentially pyjamas in public.

They had to wait another ten minutes for the girls, who both looked a bit harried when they came in. “Sorry, MJ didn’t have a change of clothes so we had to go upstairs and find something that would fit her.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky assured, looking over at MJ, who looked a little uncomfortable in the unfamiliar clothing, though at least Wanda had shown restraint. Instead of Wanda’s usual very red, black, and leather getups, MJ was wearing a plain blue top with some black jeans. Simple. 

“Didn’t think you owned anything not red,” Bucky teased.

“Ha ha,” Wanda said sarcastically, but she was smiling anyway as she took a seat. MJ sat opposite, putting Wanda and Peter on one side and Bucky and MJ on the other. 

Bucky looked at the group and took in a deep breath. “So, I found something out yesterday and thought you guys ought to know. I think first, I need to go over certain things for MJ. But before I do, I wanted to make sure  _ you _ were sure. This is a lot. And it’s not safe knowledge. I don’t think you would be in danger because of it but I can’t promise.”

MJ nodded timidly. “I think I want to know. I think I already know a little.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve already put together two and two and realised I’m Bucky Barnes. I was thought to have died in 1945, same as Steve. But I didn’t...I’m The Winter Soldier.” Her eyes widened further but she nodded. All in all, it was a rather tame reaction, for which Bucky was endlessly grateful. It was one thing for two enhanced kids who’d already seen things worse than most adults to learn about him. It was another for an almost completely innocent girl to. “Hydra had me for a long time. I did some pretty awful things, a lot of awful things, against my will. But Steve saved me. After that, it was all about my recovery so Steve and I agreed that I would go into hiding. He didn’t want me shoved into a prison the moment I was found.”

Bucky turned to the rest of the group, swallowing thickly. Sweat was beading down his neck, although he couldn’t pinpoint why. Maybe it was the honesty of his darkest secrets to someone who was far more likely to betray him, or maybe it was just the thought of letting them down. “Steve’s going to start the process to get me pardoned. I’m not much involved at this point but it means that the whole world is going to know about me and my identity. There’s been speculation so it won’t be a shock,” Bucky noticed MJ nod again, giving him a small shrug, “but it might mean I’m out of commission for a bit. So I thought I’d warn you guys.” He paused, digging into his pocket and bringing out three pieces of white card, his details printed out meticulously in blocky handwriting. Um, here’s my contact details,” he said anxiously, handing them out. He’d given his phone number, his email and his Instagram (newly set up, just in case they really were too young to use the other two). 

“If you don’t want me to have yours, you don’t have to contact me or anything but I thought it would be useful if I don’t show up or anything just to know if I’m running late or I can’t make it.”

Wanda looked a little scared at this. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Hopefully. We’ve got until November. If it fails, I’m going to trial.”

“What happens if you go to trial?” MJ asked, although she looked like she knew.

“I’ll probably end up in a SHIELD prison, or whatever they’re working under nowadays. If I’m lucky, I end up under house arrest or something. The likelihood of me winning is slim. It wasn’t…Hydra made me do a lot and there’s not much proof that it wasn’t…voluntary.”

“What about me?!” Wanda argued. “They’re letting me stay here.”

“You’re an Avenger. I don’t want to be. If I’m not useful for them, they’re not going to let me stay. Not unless Ellis is persuaded otherwise.”

“Will he be?” Peter asked.

“Steve and Natasha are on it so if there was ever going to be a chance, we have it.” The group nodded, looking to be in various states of worry. MJ was clearly mulling something over, maybe what she’d just been told, maybe something else, whilst Wanda was trembling. Her own visa into the country was flimsy at best and their cases weren’t that different. Wanda had age on her side but other than that, in a trial, most of her work for Hydra looked perfectly voluntary, even if she was doing it for her country, just like Steve had. Peter was visibly shaken, biting his lip as he looked at the blank whiteboard, eyes darting around to find something that wasn’t there.

“It’s going to be alright,” Bucky assured. “For now, everything’s going to happen as normal. I don’t want that to change.”

“But it’s not going to stay that way?” Peter asked.

“I don’t know, Pete. I really don’t.” 

Peter nodded, biting his lip harder, underestimating his own strength and cutting through the skin. “Dammit,” he muttered, bringing his fingers up to his lips. 

“Hey, talk to me, Peter. I don’t want you bottling this in for my sake.”

“It’s just…” his eyes drew back down to the table, but never to Bucky’s eyes. “This has been…really good for me. My patrols have been easier. I haven’t gotten into anything bad or anything, because I know what I’m doing now. And I just…I don’t want that to end.”

“It won’t,” Bucky promised. “I can’t say for sure that it will always be me but I promise you, if I end up somewhere else, Steve will need something to clear his head. And he’s not so bad.”

“Is it bad if I say I don’t want Captain America to train me?” Almost immediately, Peter scrambled for something to say that mitigated his words. He found nothing. Bucky didn’t care, he even managed a wan smile, glad that drilling in the honesty code was finally getting through. He wasn’t much for politeness or etiquette and he was still adjusting to the whole PC culture thing (though, he had to admit, he didn’t always try that hard). He did make sure that they still had their filters outside of their conversations but in this room, Bucky had made it clear enough times that anything and everything went. If it offended one of them, or was just plain stupid, they would have to be just as honest in saying so. Discussion was much better than silence. Open discussion even more so.

“No, but I promise you, you’d get used to it. This isn’t about me, Peter, this is about someone looking out for you.”

“But that’s just training. What about…this! Don’t tell me Captain America would do this.”

“One, you know you can call him Steve. Two, maybe not. I’ve never seen someone worse at talking in my life, but you’ve got each other. You don’t need me here. I’m just the one that introduced you all.”

“You did more than that,” Wanda interrupted sternly. 

“Yeah!” Peter agreed. “You taught us…” he looked at Wanda with a small smirk and somehow, they managed in exact synchrony, “honesty is the best policy.” Peter turned back to Bucky. “We’re not really capable of that without you.”

“I’d like to think I’m teaching you to be honest with more than just me.”

“But you  _ know _ us. You get us! It’s easier, with you. Even more than with each other. You’re, like, the least judgemental person I’ve ever met.”

“It’s the history,” Wanda agreed. “Sure, maybe we could continue this without you but we wouldn’t  _ want _ to. You’re a part of this as much as any of us.”

MJ lifted her head suddenly. “My mum’s a lawyer. If you need help, I mean,” she blurted, pulling a chord from their current conversation and driving them down another route. Bucky felt a bit ashamed of the relief that poured through him. He really hated letting these guys down.

Bucky smiled. “Don’t think a lawyer can help me at this point, but thanks.” He meant it too. There was something amazing about how these three kids could stick up for him like this. It felt like he had a chance, that maybe he  _ deserved _ a chance. Peter could continue to teach him and he could finally get an education, with a pardon, and have the life he’d wanted back in 1941, before he was shipped off to war. 

And to think MJ could say it, who’d barely known him a few weeks, and had only spoken up once to tell them how she struggled to make friends since her dad left and had otherwise remained silent. MJ, who was putting so much trust in him over nothing. Who had offered her own mother as protection against the system.

“Thank you. All of you. For now, there’s nothing you can do. Or that I can do. But really, thank you.”

“We mean it,” Wanda said, her eyes blazing. “This is a team, James, and we’re not losing a member. It wouldn’t be the same team.”

“I’ll do my best to stay then.”

It was quiet for a moment, before Bucky reminded himself to move on to the next portion of their conversation. “I also wanted to bring another issue up. About you guys at school. With my name being revealed, it’ll be likely that a few of your friends might put the dots together about who ‘Bucky’ really is. It’s a pretty distinctive name. And the Winter Soldier is a known Russian asset. People will figure it out.”

“Oh god, this is my fault,” Peter said immediately, the dawning realisation driving a cavity through Bucky’s heart.

“No, it is not,” Bucky defended vehemently. “You made a mistake, you didn’t realise it, that is not on you. But I want to be clear about this going forward. Especially with Wanda joining you guys.”

“I think it’ll be fine,” MJ interjected, her face scrunched up, clearly thinking something over. “Most people have gone along with the rumours; they don’t believe anything. And I haven’t heard your name around school since. No offence, but you got kind of overshadowed by Iron Man. And anyway, news dies over the summer. And if we all pretend you don’t exist, Ned too, people won’t think twice. We can say Peter said, I don’t know, Barney, or something.”

“I don’t know,” Peter hedged, his anxiety evident from the way he held himself to the too fast rhythm of his finger that was tapping at the table. “People don’t forget these things.”

“People always remember the crap things that happen to people, not the good. So, you got an internship? And some guy called Bucky might be the reason. No one cares. Bart getting caught with his trousers down behind the school building? That’ll stay for years.”

“Wait, did he really-?”

“Exactly,” MJ interjected. “Everyone’s interested in horror stories.”

Bucky watched the interaction, unable to hide how impressed he was. MJ, for all that she lacked friends, seemed to understand people, inside out. Or at least how the machinations of people worked. She really was the fly on the wall, watching the comings and goings of people without being noticed, able to decipher their patterns and use them to her advantage.

She’d make a brilliant spy.

Not that Bucky was going to be persuading teenagers to get in the business, unless they explicitly told him they wanted to (and had enhancements because, as he’d told Steve  _ a million times _ , you can’t just run into danger without protection, a plan or any sort of coherent thought). 

“I think MJ could be right,” Bucky said, though he had no idea how modern high schools worked. “But I want a contingency plan if it doesn’t.”

“I could just say it was you,” Peter said, his breath still coming in too-fast rises and falls. “That I didn’t know and that it was actually all spy work. Use the truth. No one would suspect anything then, just think I’m lucky.”

“You sure? I want to protect your identity. And Wanda’s.”

Wanda and Peter made quick eye contact, before Wanda declared, “we’re sure.”

“Okay then, but you tell me if anything goes wrong.”

At least, Bucky thought, they had the holidays. The pardoning would be well into the new school year but a lot of the buzz would come around soon. Hopefully, news around him would die down to a small flicker. He didn’t want to ruin Wanda’s chance at having a normal life, nor ruin Peter’s already half-normal life. 

The team seemed to let out a collective sigh as the topic was let go. It seemed to drag out for too long before Wanda cleared her throat. “Um, I have something to say.”

“What is it?”

“Um, well, it’s- it’s Tony.” Again, but Bucky wasn’t going to say that aloud. It had been a persistent issue since Wanda moved in. Although she and Tony had cleared  _ some  _ of their differences, most of them had laid unsolved. Wanda didn’t forgive Stark for her parents’ death, nor her brothers. Ultron had destroyed her country too, under Tony’s original influence. Defeating Ultron had not earned him much favour in her eyes, seeing as it was his fault in the first place.

“I- I keep trying to forgive him. For everything. And I just…can’t. I’m trying, I really am, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to move past this. He’s the only one left in the Tower I feel uncomfortable around and he  _ owns _ it. It feels…rude.”

“It’s not rude. Tony’s done some bad stuff. Same as most of us. It’s just that his bad stuff directly affected you. Don’t think you have to forgive him. Tony still hasn’t forgiven me, but we can talk and we can be in the same room as each other. Sometimes that’s enough.”

“But he’s paying for my house. My salary. Everything.”

“Would you like to be somewhere else?”

“I…don’t know. I guess, for school, I’ll need another address. If I don’t want them to know. I need to get started on the forms soon.” There was barely any time left of term, maybe just a week or two (Bucky, admittedly, wasn’t that well-versed on it but Peter had been raving about having some time off for weeks), and Wanda would have to sign up over the holidays. Bucky had already got her the papers she needed to go under the name Wanda Lebedeva.

“You know Steve and I have a spare room.”

“That’s your room, Bucky, I don’t want to take that. Even if you barely use it,” Wanda argued. 

“He barely-?” MJ stopped, understanding dawning on her face. “Wait, what?”

Peter was barely concealing a laugh. “Yeah, they’re…” Peter made a hand gesture that looked somewhat like fist-bumping himself that was probably supposed to insinuate sex/kissing/romance (or all). Wanda looked like someone had just made her day. 

“You didn’t know?!” She shouted. “I thought everyone knew!”

“But…Peggy?”

“Bisexual,” Bucky said simply.

“You were talking about yourself about the party,” MJ realised, eyes wide. “Oh crap, I’m so sorry.”

Bucky laughed. “Don’t worry about it. It’s probably best that it’s not that obvious that we’re…” Bucky decided to copy Peter’s gesture, sending the other half of the room into a bout of laughter. 

“So, like, Captain America is bisexual?” Bucky nodded. “There is so much I don’t know,” she whispered, almost in awe. Bucky couldn’t help but smile. “Since when?” She asked. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to,” she suddenly back-tracked. Bucky didn’t try to stop the retraction. She was brutally honest at the best of times but still had the ingrained politeness of popular society. Bucky hadn’t gone over it with her that she didn’t have to hold back here.

“Um, it wasn’t really a thing back in the day. But there was…something, then. We made it official after he saved me last year.” 

“Wow,” she breathed. 

Still smiling, Bucky turned to Wanda, continuing their previous topic. “We can redecorate. Steve wouldn’t mind. He’d probably love it.”

“I don’t know…I mean, I don’t want to take your space.”

“What are your other options?” Bucky asked, noticing the discomfort when it was shown. Wanda probably wouldn’t mind living with them but it would, no doubt, be an adjustment. Then again, she was too young to live on her own. Well, maybe she wasn’t, but she would likely have to find a roommate her own age if she was going to afford it and that would be hard to find.

“I’m getting an Avengers salary. It’s not…loads, but it’s too much for how much I’ve done. I could pay for a place.”

“At my house,” MJ interrupted, “we have lodgers. Well, one. We have a spare room. If you can pay for it, you could always…”

“Really?”

“I mean, it’s probably better than the random 50-year-old dudes who stink of beer and piss.”

“I wouldn’t want to-“

“You’d be paying. I can get you the details if you want.”

“That would…that would be really great.”

“Have you got everything else for school sorted?” Bucky asked, whilst they were still on the high of good news. 

“Um, mostly, yeah. We’re still trying to figure out guardianship and all but,” she shrugged, looking unsure.

“You know I would if I could-“

“No, I don’t mean it like that-“

“I know but I really would. I could do undercover and everything but my face is likely going to be plastered on the news in the upcoming weeks. Parent-teacher conferences would get a bit awkward.”

“Yeah,” she sighed.

“What about Clint? He’s a spy. You’d be surprised by how inconspicuous he is.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. He’ll have a tonne of different names and everything. Natasha might be better at it but honestly, I feel bad for any teacher who has to face her. But I’m sure Clint would say yes if you asked.”

“I don’t want to push him into anything,” she admitted. “He’s done a lot for me.”

“And he’d do more,” Bucky promised. He knew how Clint treated her like a daughter, like someone he was supposed to protect, even if he only had arrows and she had extra-terrestrial powers.

“I’ll ask,” she agreed.

“Good.” 

Silence fell and Bucky glanced at his watch. “Anyone else have anything to say? Otherwise, I’m going to go and get started on dinner.”

“You cook?” Peter said, almost incredulously.

“You sound surprised.”

“Maybe,” Peter hedged.

“Yeah, you should be. I’m a shit cook. But I’m learning.” Peter snorted but didn’t say any more, glancing around at the room. They seemed to collectively draw away from the table and pack up their stuff, Bucky throwing back the last of his slightly cold tea. “I’ll see you guys next week. Oh! Actually, before you go. I was thinking, in case sessions do get a bit sporadic, how would you all feel about adding another session when the holidays start? You can make it whatever you want. More training, talking, it’s up to you.”

The three teenagers gave what was the teenage-equivalent to a beaming smile (that looked a lot more like a lot of awkwardness and half-arsed attempts to seem unfazed). Bucky nodded, smiling himself. “We’ll sort it next week. Nice talking to you guys,” he said before leaving, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. 

For once, he almost didn’t want to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos and literally everything else is super appreciated! Put your thoughts down below!


	13. Bucky III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never embedded images before so forgive me for the formatting. The tweets aren't essential if they're hard to read (or written that well) but I took so much time making them that I've put them in as a little extra!
> 
> Also, I don’t remember the capabilities of the sims freeplay back in 2015 - or now for that matter, seeing as I’m a computer Sims person - so I can’t say that what Bucky’s declaring is even possible. But that’s why this is fiction!
> 
> Enjoy :D

In the next month, a lot happened. Peter and MJ finished school. Wanda completed her school forms and was just waiting for the entrance exam date later in the summer. Their small group became a  _ team _ ; they talked, they laughed and they even sometimes cried. And by the end of the month, Bucky’s pardoning had taken its first steps. Terrifying, hideous steps.

They’d decided to reveal Bucky’s identity by way of social media, recognising that the mainstream media and the general public would both pick up on it that way. It went up onto Steve’s (well, Captain America’s) twitter and all his 7 million followers. 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/189065027@N05/50051239868/in/photostream/)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/189065027@N05/50051239848/in/photostream/)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/189065027@N05/50051239828/in/photostream/)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/189065027@N05/50051239813/in/photostream/)

The writing was a little clunky but that’s what you got when you asked a brilliant speechmaker to try and stuff his words into a 280 character limit - and also what happened when you tried to get Steve to  _ write _ anything - but it did its job. It garnered sympathy. 

A week later, Steve followed it up with pictures of Bucky then and now. Steve had done well in choosing them. The first was his military picture, the very same one that was up in the Smithsonian. In it, he looked bored, almost upset, and the black and white did nothing to make it seem any less gloomy, even if it did blur out the imperfections of his skin. The comparison was one taken the day after Peter’s birthday party. In it, Bucky looked content. Although his smile wasn’t wide, it was true, and the soft, orange lighting made it look like he was basking in a natural glow. His hair was wavy, styled and neat, flowing freely down to his shoulders, whilst his skin had taken on a false tan in the lighting. He looked healthy. He looked  _ innocent _ . 

Overall, the efforts were proving positive. Despite both sides arguing…loudly, Bucky was happy to see that for the most part people were making fair arguments, whether they thought he should be criminalised or not (well, the ones he was shown, so maybe it wasn’t as representative as he’d hoped). Some argued that he was brainwashed, some argued that he should still pay recompense for his actions. Some said that he should join the Avengers to pay his debt. Some said he should be allowed to walk the streets freely and never have to see war again. 

Others shouted that he was scum and should be shot. Others said he was so innocent that there should be parades about him. Bucky was somehow just as uncomfortable with the first as the second. 

With that, the whole world knew about them. 

And then it quickly devolved into chaos. Within a few weeks, reporters were camped outside their door, having figured out that Bucky lived in the apartment with Steve ( _ that’s why you don’t give out your address, Steve _ ) and the flashes of their cameras reminded him of bombs. It hadn’t helped that the clicks, even just the sight of him, reminded him of the old-fashioned cameras Hydra had used to document his torture. It sent him spiralling backwards, worsened by being trapped inside the apartment, unable to escape. 

On Steve’s birthday, Bucky was having such a bad day that he’d almost hit him.

It was a bad day for both of them.

Luckily, Bucky’s session was cancelled anyway due to the 4th of July celebrations but he wasn’t looking to get any better. On Monday at midday, their new session slot, Bucky still had not left his room, speaking at Steve in monosyllabic grunts as he stared blankly at the wall.

Steve, for the first time in a while, was at a complete loss. First things first, he picked up Bucky’s phone. 

===

_ (Instagram DM) _ : BETTER TEAM THAN THE AVENGERS

_ Peter Parker is active now. _

_ Today: 12:22pm _

Hello, this is Steve. Sorry for the late message but Bucky won’t be able to make it today. Feel free to use the gym without him. JARVIS can oversee anything you want.

PP: Is Bucky okay??? This is everyone, btw, we’re all here already.

He’s not doing so great. I’m looking after him. Don’t think he’ll make Wednesday either but I’ll keep in touch.

_ 2 currently active. _

WM: Is there anything we can do? Would it be okay for us to come round?

I don’t think so. He’s really taken a turn for the worst. For now, stay safe, I’m going to give Bucky back his phone.

PP: What happened???

_ Seen by Wanda Maximoff, J.Barnes + 1 _

===

With that, Steve left the chat, feeling like a coward. He crept back into Bucky’s room and placed the phone on their bedside table, sitting next to the Bucky shaped lump under the blankets. “I messaged your team,” Steve whispered, “told them you’re not coming.”

For the first time in days, Steve saw Bucky move, flipping onto his back with a muttered “shit.” Bucky’s eyes were glazed as they stared at the ceiling, finally finding purchase on Steve. The curtains were shut, masking the room in murky darkness but both of their eyesights were good enough to catch the small, flittering expressions on each other's faces.

“I’m so sorry,” Bucky whispered back, voice hoarse and broken. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“This is a lot, I know, it’s fine-“

“No, it’s not. This is…I can’t…I told them I wouldn’t let them down.” Bucky braced himself and sat up, his muscles looking as weak as a newborn's as his weight caused the bed to make a shredding creak, the wooden headboard groaning under the pressure. 

“You’re not. It’s one session. You’ve not been well.”

“Oh shit, I nearly hit you,” Bucky muttered, as if he’d only just realised this. “I need to go. I can’t be-“

Steve planted his hand on Bucky’s chest, forcing him to stay in place, a dangerously determined glint in his eye. “You’re not going anywhere. It was an accident and you didn’t even manage to touch me-“

“It was your birthday,” Bucky continued on, oblivious to Steve’s words, although he didn’t struggle out of Steve’s gentle hold. “I didn’t get you anything on your birthday. I nearly hit you,  _ on your birthday _ .”

“Bucky, it’s  _ fine _ . You clearly weren’t even aware it was my birthday. Or, more importantly, what you were doing.”

“I can’t…I don’t know why I’m like this. I just feel so tired. And then angry. And then goddamn tired again.”

“Yeah, buddy, that’s what depression is like.”

“It’s never been like this before,” Bucky hissed, his eyes wide and terrified by the betrayal of his own mind and body. “My…I should talk to my therapist.” He didn’t know if he wanted to, but he also knew he couldn’t let this get worse. He had duties. He had a team. One that he’d already let down today.

Steve let him go, if only to get Bucky’s phone. “Call her,” Steve said, “I’ll be in the living room.”

With a meek nod, Bucky turned on the bedside lamp and dialled his therapist's number.

===

_ (Instagram DM) _ : BETTER TEAM THAN THE AVENGERS

_ 3 active yesterday. _

_ Today: 9:42am _

I’m so sorry guys. I see Steve left you all without a good explanation.

_ Today: 10:02am _

_ 2 active in the last hour. _

PP: BUCKY!

PP: Are you okay?

I’m fine, Pete. Had a real bad week but I’m back now

WM: So tomorrows session back up?

Hey Wanda. And yes. Less reporters now. I can lose them

_ 3 active now. _

MJ: Is it safe?

As safe as anything

What did you guys do on Monday?

PP: Talked

WM: Worried. Steve’s an idiot. 

I’ll talk to him about it but unfortunately it’s a chronic condition.

WM: He’s probably stressed. Bruce disappeared on us and Thor had to leave

Causing tensions?

WM: Sort of but things are fine

What do you guys say to talking a day off from languages and having a treat

MJ: Sounds suspicious

I promise you its not. Meet at the usual place, I’ll bring what we need

PP: ☺ ☺ ☺

===

As promised, Bucky brought the largest selection of baked goods he could. Teenagers were easy and even though he’d never been blamed in the first place, it felt like a good first step to earning his forgiveness. 

~*~

A month later, Bucky was doing better. His bad days were sporadic and short, rather than the week-long downturns where time felt like mud and his mind was filled with starchy wool. Steve was looking brighter for it to and had started urging Bucky to come with him to the Tower on more days than just his sessions. With Bruce and Thor gone, the atmosphere had shifted, but with Sam’s old job falling through and him moving to New York and Vision’s slowly growing awareness of the human condition, it wasn’t all bad. Their family had fractured and rebuilt itself quickly, as it always did.

Bucky still wouldn’t say he was an integral part of it, but he did feel like he was a part of it nonetheless. 

Wanda and Tony still posed the biggest problem. They skirted around each other like skittish cats, never glaring but always glancing like they couldn’t trust one another at their backs. It was dangerous, especially for those who were supposed to fight alongside each other.

Bucky understood Wanda’s reasoning, he really did, but they’d have to move past it sometime. Tony, admittedly, had been working hard to leave that time of his life behind and it was becoming clear that this was affecting more than just the two of them. Peter felt stuck and awkward; he worshipped the very ground Tony walked on but he treated Wanda like the sister he never had. The rest of them, too, had been driven to different sides and it was progressing into a dangerous tension. One that Bucky didn’t know how to expel. His own history with Tony didn’t make him the best of guides but he didn’t trust anyone else to give Wanda sane advice.

For now, he was letting it lie. Steve was making slow attempts to talk it through with her but he wasn’t great with emotions. His feelings about a lot of people were just as bottled up as Wanda’s; he just wasn’t made to face them every day.

Bucky was mulling over the possible options for moving forward when he arrived at their Monday session but was ripped immediately from his thoughts when he saw that the rest of the team had already arrived, grins on their faces (well, MJ wasn’t nearly so obvious but Bucky could tell she was amused). Frowning, Bucky looked down at himself first, wondering whether he’d already managed to embarrass himself. Surely not. He’d put a lot of effort into his look today: a blue polo shirt tucked into chinos that made him look like an arrogant rich businessman but also was super comfortable and definitely suited him. Was it too much? Should he have really tried to branch out?

That’s when he finally looked back up and noticed what was written on the board. Somehow, they’d managed to find different coloured pens and in bright multi-coloured lettering, they’d written ‘BUCKY BARNES’ ASSIMILATION INTO THE FUTURE’. He gaped, flittering quickly through his emotions, all the way from distressed to irritated, finally landing on somewhere between amused and offended. 

“I’m plenty assimilated,” he defended, taking a seat opposite the three teenagers, feeling like he was about to be interviewed. 

“We know but we also thought that it would be useful to be a little more knowledgeable for when you get pardoned and go into the real world,” Wanda surmised. When, not if, Bucky had noted them saying on multiple occasions. Such hope; he missed when he’d used to be like that. 

“What for?”

“Making friends,” Peter suggested. 

“I have friends,” Bucky argued.

“Who?” Wanda challenged, a dangerous gleam in her eye. God, how did all of them have so much  _ Steve _ in them? Two of them rarely even saw him!

“You guys. Steve. The Avengers.”

“So, your team, your boyfriend and your boyfriend's colleagues.” 

“It sounds worse when you say it like that.” Bucky slumped, even if the casual declaration of ‘team’ that they’d all taken to still made his heart beat fast with elation. 

“It’s not like, serious, or anything,” Peter tried to assure. “It’s mostly an excuse to watch a load of movies and stuff.”

“Are you finally going to show me Star Wars?”

“The fact that you’ve watched most the classics and  _ not _ Star Wars is still blasphemous.”

“The fact that you’ve basically made Star Wars a religion is blasphemous,” Bucky challenged, you know, like a child. 

“We’re not starting on Star Wars,” Wanda interrupted, not so surreptitiously mouthing ‘Star Wars is awful’ at Bucky. Peter gasped, his hand landing on his heart in mock offence (although, there was definitely some righteous anger lingering beneath the facade). 

“How dare you!” He shouted, “Star Wars is a cinematic masterpiece!”

“It’s boring,” Wanda complained.

“MJ! Back me up?”

“I liked it,” MJ said, though she sounded almost entirely indifferent. 

“See!” Peter tried but Wanda didn’t care, brandishing a tablet from her bag and handing it over to Bucky.

“First things first,” she announced, “apps.”

“I know how apps work,” Bucky sighed. He knew how most technology worked, apart from the irritatingly old-fashioned stuff that suddenly  _ wasn’t _ tech (damn whiteboard). 

“But how many do you have?”

“I have the basics,” Bucky said, “social media. Youtube.”

“What about Angry Birds?”

“What the hell is…are… _ Angry Birds _ ?” Bucky asked, his distaste obvious. 

“A game, it’s fun,” Wanda said, spinning the tablet towards her and opening up an ostentatiously bright game. Handing it back to Bucky, she urged him to have a go. 

Bucky stared the game down like it was a bomb he had to diffuse before carefully clicking the large ‘play’ button, the same one from his music app (maybe he’d ask them for help on that front. He was still trying to catch up and so far, his taste had been…diverse). Blaring loud music screamed from the speakers before Wanda quickly turned the volume down with a muttered apology and pushed the tablet back to Bucky.

Staring at the tutorial, he followed their instructions and…it failed. “But- I did what they said.”

“Try again,” Wanda said with a sly smile. 

Bucky did. And failed. And again, passing with the smallest margin of success.

“This is bullshit.”

“Addictive bullshit, though,” MJ said.

“I used to play it  _ all _ the time,” Peter added.

“I can’t imagine spending that long on it,” Bucky said calmly. Famous last words.

~*~

“Buck, you in here?” Steve called, knocking on the bedroom door. Calling back with a half-dismissive hum, Bucky stared down at his lap, fingers tapping incessantly. Opening the door, Steve started with, “I just wanted to check you were okay. I know those guys were being annoying earlier-“

“I’m fine,” Bucky said, finger trailing backwards before releasing. 

“What are you doing?”

“Angry Birds.”

“You’re…is that a phone game?”

“Yup,” Bucky said, popping the p. Yet again, he swiped his finger and released it from the tablet. 

“Um…why?”

“It helps.”

“A game about angry birds…helps?”

“It’s distracting.”

“How much have you been playing it?” Steve asked, suddenly thinking of all the times Bucky had been locked in here with his tablet.

“Not that much.”

“You’re lying.”

“No I’m not.”

“What level are you on then?”

“I-“ Bucky stopped, a red blush filling his cheeks. A rare sight and immediately suspicious. 

“Simple question, Buck.”

“700?”

“Out of how many?”

“700?”

“You completed the entire game?” Steve said, in complete disbelief. “700 levels of it?”

“Maybe?”

“When did you start playing it?”

“Last week?”

“You sound so sure.”

“Fine, Monday.”

“You completed the entire game in five days?”

“Yes,” Bucky said more decisively, though the red was only getting deeper. Finally, he looked up from his tablet (newly-bought, with a plethora of games downloaded onto it). It was also, purposefully (mostly just to annoy Stark) an  _ iPad _ . 

“But it helps?” Steve asked, finally relenting on the interrogation. He sat next to Bucky on the bed, looking over his shoulder. In here, the curtains were now almost always drawn; it had become Bucky’s sanctuary away from the reporters, the people and just about everything life was throwing at him. He even left his phone in the living room now and hadn’t yet downloaded anything but a texting app onto his iPad. He’d even bought an iPhone, to further piss off Stark, so Steve’s messages would appear on his iPad and not many others’. He’d got a pretty case for it and everything: a soft, plastic blue one with a big, white smiley face on the back and a speech bubble declaring ‘today will be a good day’. It was tacky but somehow, it really did help. He was also rotating lock screens of cute cartoons that always made him smile. The latest one was a kitten on a yellow background, a big grin on its face. His home screen never shifted from a picture of Steve. 

“Yeah. I’ve got a load of games. They distract me. Hey! I’ve got something to show you.” The blush had slowly dulled to a muted pink as Bucky went back to the home screen and opened another game, a sly smirk on his face. After a minute of loading screens, he tapped a few times and opened up a picture of a house with two rather fake-looking people inside. “It’s us!” Bucky declared, pointing at the two little fake people. “We’re  _ married _ ,” he added, biting his lip as if to hold back a laugh. “And we have a dog!”

“Um…”

“It’s a simulation game,” Bucky explained, “but it’s not realistic at all. They’re all just so…happy. As long as you care for their needs, that is. You’re an artist and I’m a firefighter and we’re growing a bunch of veg in the garden. It’s just…it’s nice. I like thinking we could have had a life like that.”

“Aw, Buck.”

“Nah. I’m fine with this too,” he said with a timid smile, motioning the room around them. “It’s just nice to have this sort of escapism.”

“Sounds like a nice game.”

“It is. Right now, we’re both watching TV but I just need to collect bits of money and things. It’ll only take them another minute to finish, though.”

“That seems…slow.” Dull, he meant, but Bucky knew he was too nice to say it.

“Yeah, but that’s because it’s free. I think there’s a fancy version out there. Don’t really know, though.” He did but he could be just as much of a cheapskate as Steve and he wasn’t paying around 200 dollars for all the expansions. Even $40 for just the base game felt like a lot, no matter how rich he was. After all, he’d just spent far too much money on devices just to piss Stark off, he wasn’t about to go and spend more money any time soon. Before, he’d just needed a little pick-me-up. Now, he had no excuse. 

“Oh look, they’re back!” Bucky declared a minute later. “You want to have a look?”

Reluctantly, Steve took the tablet and zoomed in on the little version of himself, curiosity written in his brow before it quickly dissipated. “Why…why do I  _ look like that! _ ” He screeched, a horrified expression on his face.

“Had to match it to your ugly mug,” Bucky teased. “Just making things accurate.”

“I’m going to…god, I don’t know, Buck, but something.” 

Bucky looked down at the tablet, staring at the Sim version of Steve, with its slightly deformed face and fake blonde hair. Even his clothes were awful, an ode to Steve’s old-man’s clothes that were definitely made for elder sins. 

“This is awful,” Steve whispered but his fingers were already darting around the tablet, looking at the gameplay. “I hate this.” At that, Bucky burst out laughing. It felt like redemption. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the amazing reception on this. The number of kudos, comments and subscriptions blows me away every day. I'm grateful for each and every one.


	14. Bucky IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't tell whether these chapters are really slow or not...it's becoming hard to get a load of ideas and fit them all into one chapter. Instead, I tend to be fitting one in per chapter. If you guys have any suggestions, put them below, might make these a bit more substantial :)

The gym had been cleared again and was back to its usual slate grey, the low lighting creating an almost arena-esque atmosphere to the room. Yet for such a large space, the lighting made it seem almost intimate, broken by only the low hum of the vents and the occasional breath drawn by their loosely formed circle. MJ remained silent, though her mouth was twitching, like she had found the words but didn’t know quite how to put them together. 

Bucky’s focus remained steadfast, like a sniper awaiting its shot, and he settled under the immediate calm. There was a reason he was seen as such a good listener. His hands planted on his jeans, the rough texture keeping him grounded, he listened to the hitches of her breath, examining her mood. It was a good skill to be able to read people and for Bucky, who had had to relearn human interaction over the last year, it was a useful trick to relearn empathy. Not that it had been entirely false to begin with. Sometimes he’d just found it hard to reach certain emotions, or to understand other people’s. It wasn’t always, or even common, but he had built up many techniques to combat the few times a whole conversation crumbled because he couldn’t quite understand what the other person was _getting_ _at_.

Unfortunately, assassin training only covered the basics of infiltration, nothing more than what was needed to get to your target, and not any particular acting skills. They didn’t want a robot to act. He didn’t have the same training as Natasha, who had been  _ taught _ to fake. Maybe he had, once, but he sure didn’t remember it, alongside the other million memories that the electricity had burned away.

“I wanted to say something,” MJ finally breathed out, still skirting the real issue. Either way, Bucky was lucky today. It was not the first time MJ had tried to speak but usually, her slow progress meant that Wanda and Peter ended up speaking up first and by that point, MJ had given up on hers altogether. Today was a rare occasion where Peter and Wanda had nothing to say (or at least had decided not to) letting MJ finally have her turn.

“Go ahead,” Bucky said calmly, not moving an inch. Peter, on the other hand, fidgeted relentlessly whilst Wanda had taken to picking at her nails. They didn’t mean any disrespect by it, they were listening just as intently but they were also teenagers. Their social etiquette could be...clunky, to say the least. Although Bucky had seen it just as badly in adults, if only less often. 

“Um, well…” MJ looked off to the side, taking in a breath and composing herself. She was almost like Natasha, if lacking the intense training, in the way she could act entirely nonchalant. She clearly cared but put on a brave face. The bravery was inherent but the problem was, bravery so often came at the detriment of the wielder, making stone out of flesh. Bucky had seen it in Steve and Natasha, god, most of the Avengers. In order to take the shots for other people, you had to be impenetrable. 

“I don’t know, it isn’t the same as your problems…” She trailed off as her eyes dropped to the floor. 

“How so?” Bucky coaxed, carefully drawing the words out of her. If she really didn’t want to speak, she wouldn’t, but he wouldn’t stand for hesitancy on account of fear. That wasn’t how their team worked.

“It’s not really a moral dilemma. I’m not choosing between good and evil.” She raised an eyebrow, as if to say ‘see?’. So, that was the problem. Honestly, Bucky was surprised he hadn’t seen it sooner.

“Don’t compare,” he said, rolling his eyes. He continued, deadpan, running over the words like this was the thousandth time he’d said them. “Pain is pain, no matter the amount. Believe me, I’d know. Don’t hold competitions. It’s just going to suck for you. Fine, Peter has moral dilemmas about responsibility, but he also has anxiety because of  _ school _ . Wanda had magic powers but is still scared about what her friends think about her. Your problems aren’t any less just because you don’t have these fancy powers. Unfortunately, powers or not, life kinda sucks.”

MJ cracked a smile and a small, huffing laugh. “When you put it like that…”

“I’ve had to have this conversation too many times with Steve. Believe me, I could fight on this for hours.”

“What’s he comparing to?” MJ suddenly shook her head. “Sorry, that’s none of my business.”

“Maybe not but I’ve told you, you don’t need to hold back. Steve doesn’t think his pain is worth anything because it’s not as bad as what I went through. It’s stupid and he has a guilt complex a mile wide. He’s working through it.”

“I thought you said he didn’t go to therapy,” Peter blurted, before looking contrite. Although, he’d clearly learnt something from these sessions and didn’t take it back.

“He doesn’t. He’s an idiot. But I help him as much as I can.”

“Why doesn’t he?” Wanda asked. 

“That’s between me and him,” Bucky admitted, knowing when a step too far had been taken. “And anyway, I think MJ had something to say. We’re getting off track.”

The room grew silent again, although they all jumped when a large clang came from the ceiling. “Clint!” Bucky shouted. “I thought I told you that you couldn’t linger in the vents during our sessions!”

“Sorry, just passing through!” A muffled voice returned, followed by another large clang. Bucky sighed, though he couldn't help his smile, as he turned back to MJ. “I think the world is against us.” 

MJ laughed a little more, the slowly built tension seeping from her posture. “I just…well,” he looked Bucky in the eye for a moment before diverting them to the floor by her feet. “It’s not been great at home recently. With my mum. We don’t argue much; I don’t…I like to just leave if tensions are high. But lately, it’s been worse. She’s rarely at home and when she is, she’s…angry, quick-tempered. She’s stressed. I get that. But it doesn’t excuse her being horrible to me.”

“Sounds like it’s complicated.” Bucky was proud that she hadn’t gone straight for self-recrimination, or straight to blame her mother either. He was being honest when he said he thought it was complicated. Too many of these issues got put into a black and white spectrum but with family, it wouldn’t work to just blame. MJ clearly loved her mum and thought highly of her, something like that couldn’t be ripped apart just by putting labels on what was happening. Especially not without hearing more.

“It is. You know she’s a lawyer. She’s a public defender so it’s not like she gets paid tonnes and she’s always working multiple cases at once but for some reason, this summer has been worse than ever. She keeps saying I’m not helping her enough around the house and all but it’s just…” MJ looked to the side. “I try, I do, but I’ve never been taught how, you know. I can clean, but it’s never up to standards. I can’t cook at all. I don’t know how to work our washing machine and I can’t find it on YouTube. Last time I tried to do a wash, I put all the lights in the ‘white’ wash, which is apparently 90 degrees. It shrunk my favourite jumper to the size of a baby’s onesie.” 

“You’re still young; it’s not a surprise you don’t know these things. And it’s hard when someone doesn’t tell you how. She shouldn’t be getting angry at you for doing your best. But Wanda, you lived on your own for a long time, right?” Wanda nodded. “You’d be able to help MJ out, right? Just the basics.”

“Of course! You’ve already done so much for me, you and your mum both. I’d be very happy to help.”

“You don’t need to-“

“I’d love to. I will show you some traditional Sokovian recipes. And some routine ‘looking after a house’ things. It’ll be fun.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

“We’re a team, right? That’s all about helping each other out.”

“Fair, enough. Thanks.” MJ was blushing but her face cracked into a smile. Peter had told him before that MJ had never seemed to have any close friends. She was good at just talking to people around the school; she wasn’t an  _ outcast _ by any means, she was just never close to anyone. She didn’t seem to  _ want  _ to be. She was ephemeral and didn’t seem to want to change that. 

When Bucky looked at her now, he knew that Peter had misinterpreted the situation. MJ had clearly been struggling and had taken to being alone to hide that. This team had done a lot for her. She’d found friends, and maybe even a mentor, and she was a part of something more than herself. 

“Is that all it’s been?” Bucky asked. “Or is it other things?”

“Well, she gets angry any time we don’t agree. It’s fine, but she tends to start shouting quick. It’s uncomfortable. It’s not…horrible, per se, but I don’t like it.”

“Me neither,” Bucky admitted. “Shouting is an area I’m happy to stay away from. Have you told her?”

MJ shook her head. “It would make it worse.”

“Possibly. For now, I’d just try to keep your own space. Hopefully, if Wanda does come to live with you, your mum might not want to shout in front of guests. Always worked with my dad. Except when Steve came round.”

“Your dad like that too?”

“Oh, he was a drunk. Used to slur and shout and slap and all. Bad crap. But never would if I had a ‘respectful’ friend around. Of course, Steve apparently didn’t count in that category. He was a scrappy punk, even more so back then.”

“Your life sounds awful,” MJ deadpanned.

“Oh, it has been, but even shit has bright spots.” Bucky caught MJ’s eye and smiled, reassuring her. It wasn’t much help as of now but at least MJ had gotten it off her chest. That’s what this was about most of all; they knew each other’s secrets and they were now linked by an indisputable trust. “Anyone else want to say something?”

“Oh!” Wanda called out. “I do. It’s not anything particularly important but it came up this week. If I’m to remain under wraps at school and elsewhere, I will need a mask for missions. They’re thinking of putting me back on the roster soon. Steve says he’s close to clearing me. And there is no good footage of my face in Sokovia. If I could wear a mask, I might be able to stop people from finding out my identity, at least for a while.”

“Have you asked Stark?” Bucky asked. 

“No. I…I didn’t know how to approach him.”

Bucky sighed quietly. “Have you thought of just talking to him?”

“I’m afraid I might blow up if I talk to him.”

“I can. Talk to him, I mean,” Peter said. “Or I could, you know, make you a mask, if you want.”

“You would?”

“Of course. It’d be really fun. I would love to be able to investigate some of your powers more theoretically, try and make a fabric and design that could possibly even work with it. Or just something that looks cool, you know. Oh! MJ could help! She’s good at art!”

“I don’t mind,” MJ said with a shrug, which was as much of a yes as she was likely to give. 

“You sure?” Wanda asked, the beginnings of excitement teasing the corners of her lips. MJ nodded again with a gentle smile. Peter was positively beaming at the chance to do some more scientific research and create a cool product at the end of it. No doubt, working on his suits could get boring without anything to break up the monotony.

“You guys want to change our Monday session? Go to one of the labs?”

“That would be so cool!” Peter cheered. “Do you want me to ask Tony?”

“If you could, Pete. We don’t want to invade used spaces.”

“You wouldn’t be. Oh, I can show you Spider-Bot! He’s doing great; I’ve been inputting new commands. I’m not, like, the best at coding but I’ve been learning. It’s been so cool.”

“Sounds great,” Bucky said, letting Peter wear his excitement out naturally. “Everyone up to it?” With nods all around, Bucky sent them to go get their things and wrapped the session up. 

As they scattered, Bucky pulled out his phone, scrolling through his messages from Steve before landing on his home screen again. Almost tentatively, he opened Angry Birds, making sure no one was near enough to see him, and opened up level 580. Although he’d played them all before on his iPad, he was now aiming to get 3 stars on all the levels on his phone. It meant bringing his phone into the bedroom but it was worth it.

“So you do like Angry Birds!” Wanda suddenly shouted gleefully from the corner of the room.

“What did I say about mind reading!” He barked, trying to cover up his embarrassed grimace. 

“You said you weren’t going to play it that much!”

“I don’t!”

“You’re on level 580!” 

“I reiterate: no mind reading!”

“You’re diverting.”

“You’re cheating.”

“At what? Life?”

Bucky frowned. Angrily, he muttered, “teenagers,” and shut the level off, pulling himself to his feet. “It’s addictive,” he explained. “It’s tricked my poor, old-man mind.”

“So you  _ are _ old now that it’s convenient for you?” Wanda teased, folding her arms over her chest.

“You didn’t hear anything and you’ve got no proof of what I said.”

“Don’t I? JARVIS!”

Almost immediately, Bucky’s voice started relaying through the speakers. “See! Cheat!” Bucky shouted but he was smiling. He loved the freedom he had with Wanda, who wasn’t afraid to tease him like he wasn’t at least eight decades her senior. “Now, I’m going to get away from this…what do you kids call it? Toxicity. And go home.”

“You’re just afraid of the truth!”

“Never!” Bucky shouted as he dove into the elevators and prayed that the doors shut quickly. When the doors were just about to click shut, he saw a mirage of red magic creating the words ‘I was right’ through the gap.

“Goddamn punk.”

~*~

On Monday, they convened in one of the lower labs. It wasn’t Peter’s personally (because that was connected directly to Tony’s lab with only a piece of glass separating them and they’d deemed it better to avoid that debacle altogether) but it was empty of any others until tomorrow so they could have the privacy they needed. It was a sprawling area with all the technology Bucky had dreamed about as a kid. A mix of unforgiving metal and the quiet click-clack of mechanical devices, it was somehow made softer by the littered detritus that was sprawled across each desk; pens, pencils and almost black pieces of paper layered in messy piles, discarded without care. It was never more evident than in a Stark lab that no one much cared for physical copies anymore, not when everything could be accomplished with technology. Pen and paper were for jotting down inconsequential notes that you feared you’d forget if you left it for five minutes. Things that had to be left out, lest you forget about them.

Peter acted like this was his home, brushing things away to make way for his own notes and laptop, flicking his hand to drag up a hologram, examining it carefully before pressing on certain points to bring up what he wanted. Bucky stared with awe at the ease in which things in the future could be produced and how awesome it looked in the process. Something as simple as this was enough to force him into the present and even make a smile play at his lips.

The pardoning process had overloaded him again on Sunday, with the announcement that a movement was being formed against him to force a trial. If it gained enough traction, Ellis would likely be forced to redact the idea of a pardon to avoid civil unrest. Steve was stressed, Bucky was despondent. He’d known the possibilities yet they were so much worse when they actually came around. In theory, he’d been fine with this yet at the news, he’d found himself shutting down, curling up into his box and sealing the edges. Steve had only just managed to pry him out.

Suddenly, something came rolling up to his feet, stopping nearby with a quiet beep. Bucky turned almost frantically, ready to take down the intruder, when he noticed it’s spindly limbs and sleek black design. “Spider-Bot?” He asked, although he had no idea if it could respond. 

It beeped.

“I’m going to take that as a yes.”

“Oh yeah, Spider-Bot!” Peter cheered. “I asked Tony to send him down. Isn’t he amazing?” Bucky presumed he was talking about the robot, not Tony, but it probably could have just as easily been either. Beckoning the robot over, Peter continued tapping away at the screen, though one hand now rested on the robot like he was petting a dog’s head.

Bucky looked over to Wanda, who looked just as confused. Although, she wasn’t one to judge, she had a crush on an android. 

“We’ll start on the design,” Peter ordered a moment later, before adding, “if that’s okay with you.”

“You’re the leader here,” Bucky reminded, folding his arms and leaning against the desk on the edge of the room, giving him decent sight-lines of the entrances and windows. Unfortunately, unlike the gym, the labs were a lot more an open plan concept with large windows and plenty of glass and whilst it made it easier to see the intruders come in, it also made it a hell of a lot less defensible. 

“Yeah. Yeah, right. Leader. Cool. So, well, MJ, have you got ideas?”

“A few.” She dug through her bag and brought her notebook and a pencil, coming up to the hologram. “JARVIS?” She asked tentatively, still unused to the half-sentient AI in the ceiling, like any normal person. 

“Yes, Miss Jones?”

“Could you transfer my images to the hologram?” 

“Of course, Miss Jones.” Effective immediately, the drawings appeared in full. It was five sketches, each a small variation on the last, with little, tidily-written notes in the margins and thin arrows pointing to different sections of the masks. 

“Well, this is what I thought up. I thought it would be easiest to leave your mouth open for, you know,  _ breathing _ , so I focused on covering the eyes and partially your cheeks. I was thinking the less to go off the better. A bit like Captain America’s helmet.”

“You know you can call him Steve too, MJ,” Bucky interjected. 

“I’ve met him, like, once.”

“You’re part of my team and he’s my…partner, or whatever,” they weren’t great with labels, “think that gets you a pass to call him by his first name. It’s not like I’m asking you to call him Stevie or something.” The trio practically shuddered at the thought. 

“It’s still Captain America’s mask, though. Unless Steve wears it in his free time.” Bucky rolled his eyes but knew when he’d lost.

“I really like two and five,” Wanda said. They were variations on a similar theme. Both had spikes on either side of the head, connected over the forehead in a v-shape and material going down over her sideburns, almost like an Alice-band, pulling back her hair. However, number two had put an almost ominous veil over the face, like a ghost bride from a horror film. It was labelled simply with ‘red’ and ‘Woman in Black’. 

Film, right? Book? Both?

Five was less gothic. This one had an artistic design to cover her face, similar to the woven strands of her magic. It was like a spider’s web, Bucky thought, distorting the general features of Wanda’s face. “I like five,” Bucky declared. “It’s more practical than two.”

“Two is scary, though,” Peter said. “Very horror film.”

“People are scared of me already, it’s probably best I don’t make it worse,” Wanda sighed. “Five might be better.”

“Five it is.” 

The hologram dissipated at the edges, leaving only number five in view, zoomed in to make it clearer. Immediately, Peter stared to run a few simulations on what material would keep the structure and be comfortable at the same time, turning back to Wanda every now and then as if to imprint her face shape in his mind. 

They chatted mindlessly as Peter got the first draft up and running. They skirted around Bucky’s pardoning and focused more on Wanda’s upcoming plans. In half a month’s time, it was likely that Wanda was going to be moving out. Soon after that, she’d take the entrance exam. 

Their Wednesday sessions had revolved around Wanda for a while now, although Bucky was still learning just as much, if not more, with the new setup. MJ was even coming to those too now, seeing as she didn’t have much else to do. She took to drawing through the sessions but every now and then, she’d do some history lessons with Bucky to catch him up on what he missed. There was even one instance where she taught him some biology, stating that Peter was blind-sighted by the other two ‘more boring’ sciences. That was when Bucky had learnt that MJ wasn’t exactly like Steve (drawing and ignoring the rest of the world), she was  _ smart _ , like super smart. Which he felt like a bit of a dunce for not realising earlier, especially when she said she was in the academic decathlon team alongside Peter. 

When Peter was finally done, he beckoned them back over. “So, I was thinking, how about  _ really _ following the Captain America suit style. Same material. It’s strong, durable and should stay in place. It will mean the red is a bit duller than, say, plastic but it’s a more realistic and viable option. The design wouldn’t be in the same material, I’m thinking something more like ribbon. It’s not constricting and it’s bright, it should hide your features well. We could get it shiny too so pictures will be blurrier if they have the flash on.” It was amazing how smooth Peter sounded when he was confident about something, or at least sure. Science was Peter’s home and he sounded like it. Less of the bumbling and more of the leadership he’d probably roll into one day. No doubt that was what Tony was aiming for.

“That sounds…great,” Wanda said, examining the three-dimension hologram that showed how it would fit onto her head. “You’re good at this,” she commented as she circled around it. 

“Thanks. Just want to get it right.”

“Think we’ll just have to try it,” Bucky said, “it’s the only way to really test something.”

“I’ll get the synthesiser on it. JARVIS?”

“I have started Project Red Sparks on Synthesiser Three.”

“Red Sparks?”

“Well, it was going to be Project Red, but apparently Natasha took that,” Peter shrugged. 

“It’s magic, not sparks.”

“Looks like sparks,” Peter teased, smirking.

“They could kill you.”

“Killer sparks.”

“I hate you.”

“Hate you too.” Peter laughed, a glint in his eye as Wanda smiled in turn. 

Slowly, MJ turned to Bucky. “They are disgusting,” she deadpanned.

If Bucky hadn’t realised that he was too invested in a teenager’s relationship (which was almost definitively weird as a possibly 30-something-year-old man), he would have said the same about MJ and Peter, instead, he held back and gracefully said, “oh of course. I don’t know why I’m even here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The washing machine thing actually happened to me. It was goddamn annoying.
> 
> [to reiterate the beginning notes: put any ideas you have below if you'd like. it would be a huge help :)]


	15. Bucky V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a while! But since I last posted, I turned into a legal adult and temporarily moved house so it’s been busy! Hope you’ve all stayed well and enjoy the chapter :)

In early August, Wanda finally moved out. She did so without much fanfare; most of her things remained in the Tower due to storage restrictions and even then, she’d had little to begin with anyway. Her belongings fitted into a large suitcase and two small boxes, the latter of which Bucky was bringing up the stairs leading to MJ’s house. 

MJ lived in a small townhouse in Queens, although it looked much more typical of Brooklyn, with its red brick walls and wrought-iron railings. It was three bedrooms, although in comparison to Tony’s rooms, they could be better described as boxes. But they were comfortable and well-furnished. Enough to give Wanda her own space, which had been a requirement from the get go. 

Wanda, MJ and Peter were already inside, making up Wanda’s room. Vision had been around for a bit to say his goodbyes and ‘see a bit more of the city’ but left quickly. He and Wanda had stared at each other for too long and had been forced to part when Peter had started laughing. (And Bucky had thought  _ Peter and MJ _ were bad). 

Dropping the boxes at the top of the stairs, he was met by a woman he’d never seen before. “So you’re Bucky,” she stated, examining him with narrowed eyes. She had dark skin, just a shade darker than MJ’s, and frizzy black hair, left openly in its afro style. 

“Yes, ma’am. Bucky Barnes.” He swallowed. Honestly, it was probably the worst name to be introducing yourself with in 2015. Not only had he been plastered on the front page of the newspapers for the last few weeks, but it had also been so for pretty bad reasons. A case against him was bubbling and Steve was almost definitely fighting a useless battle at this point. And with the publicity around his proceedings, it was becoming increasingly likely that a trial would be pushed forward before he could get an official pardon.

“I see.” Her lips were pursed but she didn’t look scared, only calculating. Although, if MJ’s attitude had come from anywhere, it would have been her mother; he couldn’t read her body language at face value. Fear was a given at this point. The Winter Soldier was an unknown and Bucky Barnes was barely any better. “So you are this  _ mentor _ MJ has been telling me about.”

“Yes.” Bucky was almost sure he was about to start stuttering but if there was one thing seventy years of Hydra torture allowed you to do, it was to get through painful situations without showing it. With a blank face, he tried to figure out what to do next. He was going to have trouble getting through this without outing Wanda or Peter’s secret identities or telling her that he’d sort of - definitely - armed her child.

Maybe he did need to reevaluate a few things. 

But that could come later. For now, he just had to get through this, so he started where he felt it was safest. “I’ve been teaching them Russian, for the most part. Wanda and I met at the Tower. She was just glad someone else could speak her language.” Bucky’s eyes trailed to the floor, trying to posture himself in a way that would garner pity instead of rancour. “She’s part of the Sokovian Relief Trust effort. Then Peter came about with the Stark Internship, met Steve and then me through him.” It was a lie but it was probably better than just telling her that he kept running into teenagers in the halls. “Peter was actually the one to invite MJ along.”

The explanation was long-winded and noticeably forced but he hoped it came across more as a justification for suddenly mentoring her teenage daughter rather than the fact that he was trying to hide that ⅔’s of them were secretly superheroes. Although, it partially  _ was _ . 

“Peter invited MJ personally?”

“Oh yeah.” Bucky leant against the railing and feigned casualness. “Peter’s a  _ big _ fan of MJ.”

Her mum blinked once, her head reeling back slightly. “Really?” She asked, seemingly now intrigued, if the way she leant forward was any indication.

“Very. And I wouldn’t say it’s one way.”

“Interesting,” her mum hummed. Something had shifted in her posture. She was uncomfortable, nervous too, but it was like someone had stuck a needle in her and seeped out the worry. It drained from her posture, her shoulders falling down in a soft breath. Clearly, Bucky had made his point that he wasn’t a danger to MJ, nor anything else. It was a curious situation, but a justifiable one.

“I’m Angela,” the woman finally said. “And I’m going to be straight up with you and say that I don’t know what’s going on here and I’m definitely not sure about your involvement in it but as long as you’re not hurting my kid, I’m allowing it. She’s brighter when she comes back from these ‘lessons’,” (clearly, Bucky had been persuasive enough,  _ at all _ ) “so I’ll give you one pass. But if any of your stuff reflects back on her, or me, or if I even  _ hear _ my daughter's name on the news, there’ll be hell to pay. And if I hear one word about anything else…” She left it hanging but Bucky knew exactly what she was saying.

“Understood. But I promise you, I would  _ never _ .” Bucky felt slightly sick at the insinuation. He understood, objectively, it was a little odd how close he was with a team comprised of minors but it just wasn’t like that.  _ Of course _ it wasn’t. In this case, context made the situation a far cry from anything else like this. 

He’d lost so much in life that he wasn’t going to lose out on this because people could make misconceptions about it. 

Angela left after that, giving him one more stern glare. That left him with the boxes, floundering in the doorway, so he pushed it all to one side and knocked carefully on the door instead, clearing his thoughts. “Wanda? MJ?” He called out. No one yet had told him to, or said he could, come inside and he wasn’t going to push it, especially with no explicit permission from Angela. 

Within a few seconds, Wanda appeared at the top of the stairs, a little harried but beaming. “Come on up! And bring the boxes.” Bucky smiled and heaved the boxes back into his arms before traipsing slowly up the stairs. Even with super-strength, the lack of visibility had his mind on edge. Paranoia was a constant friend, though, and it was two seconds before he was at the top.

Although, something in the back of his mind held onto it, desperate from the familiar sensation, no matter how horrifying it was. Bucky shook it off forcefully; now was not the time. He had to make sure Wanda was feeling alright. 

Wanda waited until he was at the top to beckon him into her new room: a small, square bedroom at the end of the corridor. It wasn’t far from the stairs, only a few metres through a dimly lit hallway with an old fashioned rug running down the middle of the wooden floorboards. 

He dumped the boxes in the doorway and had a peek inside. “You look pretty set up,” he commented, taking in the small details. Already, there was a scented candle on the small bookshelf, filling the room with a soft, vanilla-like smell. Knick-knacks filled the space, tchotchke gathered to make the room feel more at home, something she had confided she’d been lacking since she’d moved into the tower. Even since she’d last had a proper home, so long ago. 

Bucky’s eyes caught on the small picture on her bedside table; it was of her and Pietro, grinning like fools. They had their arms wrapped around each other and despite everything, they looked happy. Truly happy. Even in her best moments, Bucky didn’t think he’d really seen Wanda like that.

It was a beautiful photo.

Feeling something dangerous in his chest, he moved onto the rest of the room. It was glaringly different from Stark’s rooms. The small single bed would probably feel awkward after having a queen for so long and the small floor space would be a big difference after having a bedroom you could practically run laps in. But, although Bucky had never seen Wanda’s old room, he knew this would be more comfortable for her. It was personal, fitting. It was in the details, from the plush carpet to the old, oak furniture; it would be a lot closer to home than Stark Tower could ever be. 

“What are you smiling about, old man?” Wanda teased, coming into the room until none of them could stand all that comfortably in it. The suitcase took up at least half the room, but it was mostly clothes and would be soon emptied out into the old-fashioned armoire. 

“This will be good for you,” he said. “Or I hope it will be.”

“I think it will be.” Wanda smiled and shrugged, before turning around and leading everyone out. “I’ll sort out everything tomorrow,” she explained, “for now, I think I was promised ice cream.”

Bucky sighed but plastered on a smile. “You guys have fun. I’m going to get back to Steve.”

“Aw, Bucky! You should join us.”

“You know I would. But firstly, MJ’s mum is…suspicious enough. She’s seen the news. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. Secondly, Steve is going to start cooking dinner if I don’t get back and honestly, I really don’t want the apartment to burn down.”

“You say that as if  _ you _ can cook,” MJ drawled, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m an amazing cook,” Bucky said sarcastically, “so I’m going to go save my boyfriend from certain death.” Even now, Bucky still stumbled over the word boyfriend, sounding like he was a fourteen-year-old who didn’t quite understand when it was suitable to use it, but pushed through regardless. MJ remained disbelieving. 

“Fine,” Wanda sighed. “But we’ll see you tomorrow?”

“‘Course. Have fun, guys!”

“We will,” they chorused. 

Bucky smiled and turned to leave before Peter’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “Oh! Just so you know, we know the stuff on the news is all wrong, Bucky. So…” He trailed off, shrugging, but the message came over regardless.

“Thanks, Pete. But we both know that they’re mostly telling the truth, even if they’re framing it in a certain way.”

“That’s not true,” MJ defended. “The media is twisting it more than just bias.”

“I don’t know, MJ, but thanks for the confidence. I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Bucky turned to leave, an undeniable fondness in his heart.

Maybe he didn’t think he was worth redemption but at least he had a group of people who did.

~*~

Peter never could sneak up on him but that didn’t mean he didn’t try. He shouted, only to sigh when Bucky didn’t even flinch. “Come on!” He complained, “I was  _ silent _ .”

“And I saw you walk in the door.”

“You’re not facing the door, though?”

“That’s what the training’s for, Pete.”

“Ugh, one day,” he sighed, but didn’t seem put out. He took the seat next to Bucky and got his phone out. With the inevitable wait for the others (they had to get the subway over, which seemed to have permanent works on it, whilst Peter had taken to just swinging to the Tower), Bucky decided to do the same and got his tablet from his bag to check on a few things.

Within two minutes, Peter was already bored of his phone and was looking over Bucky’s shoulder. “Is that Sims Freeplay?! I used to love that game!”

“You had it?”

“Yeah. It was huge for a while. Don’t know if it’s so big anymore.”

“I like it. It’s…quaint.”

“You’ve clearly never seen footage of the real game.”

“Huh?”

“Lots of, well, it’s kind of silly but people tend to kill their sims for fun.”

“That’s…sadistic.”

“Yeah, but it’s like shooting games. They’re more for competition than for killing. In Sims, it’s just funny because they’re…goofy. Your sim can die from trying to cook an omelette.”

“That’s a thing?”

“It makes sense when you play it.”

Bucky huffed a laugh and focused back on the game. He clicked calmly on the little money icons and collected what he had taken to calling ‘rent’ and then went into his own little household. “Oh my god, is that you and Steve? That is so cute.” Peter squinted. “Why does he look like that?”

“You’ve clearly never gotten a good look at Steve.”

“I’ve seen the photoshoots.”

“Photoshop,” Bucky joked, “it does wonders.” Peter laughed along with him and watched as Bucky sent Steve off to work and settled himself in to watch a movie, their dog wandering around the house. 

With all of the people having their own little tasks, he went back to the map and switched to the new household. “Is that me and MJ?”

“What about me?” MJ asked, walking into the conference room, Wanda following shortly behind. 

“Just looking at Bucky’s Sims world.”

“I’m in it?”

“You all are,” Bucky said, tapping into their household. “Peter and MJ in one house, Wanda with Clint and Natasha in the other. I only have three houses unlocked so far.”

“Why isn’t Wanda with us?” MJ asked, her eyes narrowed. 

Bucky shrugged but the smirk gave him away; Wanda snickered as she took her seat, raising an eyebrow at Bucky but saying no more. MJ kept her eyes narrowed but cautiously took a seat, her eyes flickering to a slowly tomato-ing Peter (and yes, Bucky would argue, you could use tomato as a verb). And anyway, it wasn’t like he really had an answer. He’d done it for a laugh at the time but he wasn’t exactly going to make them do romantic interactions in his game; that would feel creepy at best. For now, he’d enjoy the chaos and see what happened.

“Let's see me then,” Wanda ordered, leaning over the table to see his screen. Bucky smiled and indulged her - indulged all of them, showing them their careers and relationships. Wanda was a teacher and inexplicably best friends with Natasha. MJ had followed Steve and become an artist and very much liked to do her own thing (not dissimilar to real life). Peter had grabbed the scientist role, decked out in a lab coat as Bucky sent him to work. 

It was fun to show them around but Bucky didn’t let it last long. “Enough games. You’ve got an entrance exam in a week and this is our last session until then.” Wanda visibly swallowed but nodded. “What do you need help with? Anything?”

“English,” Wanda blurted immediately. Quickly, she added, “I’ll be fine. I’ll pass. But it’s just not as good as the rest of my subjects.” And the one they’d focused on the least. Bucky, although he’d had grammar drilled into him from an early age, was still stuck with a slightly Brooklynite version of the English language and didn’t know much about how they now taught it in schools. Peter just wasn’t that interested. MJ was their best hope and had been coaching bit by bit, although it was mostly up to Wanda to read as much English as she could and write it when she found the opportunity or time. Luckily, it wasn’t a literature exam, only language. Although, it was mostly her creative writing that was showing struggle. She didn’t quite understand the formulaic take the school was no doubt pushing for and was struggling in fluency. 

But they were minor complaints and barely a large proportion of her exams. She’d be fine. “You’ve been doing well,” MJ said, proving Bucky’s point, evidently unconvinced by Wanda’s fear, “you’ll do better than just pass.”

“You think?”

“Definitely. Half the idiots in school can barely even read. You’re ahead of a lot of them.”

“It’s just…I don’t know, I’ve always spoken it well. But writing, it’s…”

“You’re great, Wanda, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Peter reassured. “I got in and I was never good at English. Even if it was my first language. Do they know you’re Sokovian?”

“Yes. They think I’m part of a Stark programme that had Sokovian school children sent to America.”

“Guess you kind of were,” Bucky said. 

“Well, then it’ll be fine,” Peter continued. “If they know it’s your second language, they’ll be blown away.”

“Let’s hope so,” Wanda sighed, her eyes drifting off to something Bucky couldn’t see. 

“Well, it won’t hurt to go over a few things. MJ, you can help?” Bucky asked, receiving an easy nod. Bucky, in turn, looked at Peter. “You want to do some Russian? I feel like it’s been a long time.”

“Shouldn’t I help Wanda?”

“She’ll be fine. And MJ’s on it.” Bucky looked at her, already furiously scribbling on a piece of A4, and knew she was going to do brilliantly. 

~*~

Wanda passed her exam with flying colours. She was in.

The next day, they celebrated, smiles all around.

Three days after that, Bucky couldn’t even get out of bed. 

It was looking like he would be going to trial. 

Life was always shit like that.

~*~

“You want to run away to Russia?” Steve joked, sitting on the edge of the bed, next to a familiarly-shaped lump under the blankets. 

“I hate Russia,” Bucky grumbled. Steve smiled; it was one of the few words he’d even heard from Bucky today, never mind that it was a clear ‘go away’. 

“But you can speak Russian. Good for cover.”

“I can inexplicably talk a lot of languages,” Bucky said, rolling onto his back. Finally, his head appeared, revealing haggard features and darkened eyes. If Steve didn’t know better, he would think Bucky was wearing makeup. 

“I don’t think it was inexplicable.”

“I was an assassin, not a spy. Why the hell would I need to know languages? They didn’t even let me speak unless I was on a mission. Or reports.”

“I guess when you put it like that…”

“It’s stupid.” Bucky frowned but even that felt better than before. It was better than the never-ending blankness that seeped into his cells and froze his face solid. 

“How you feeling, Buck?” Steve finally asked, after a seemingly endless silence. 

“Pretty shit. But that’s just about constant nowadays, isn’t it?”

“There’s still a chance-“

“No, there’s not!” Bucky said, raising his voice to cover Steve’s, before heaving a sigh, his whole body melting into the mattress. “It’s just…give it up, Steve, it’s not going to work.”

“It could.”

“Ellis is against it and it’s up to him.”

“We can bring him around.”

“I don’t think we can.”

“Then just leave it to me.”

“Ever the optimist,” Bucky complained lightly, though even he looked a little less down. Not smiling, not even near, but something.

“You going to the session today?” 

A pause.

Bucky looked off to the side, his eyes staring out of the window for an unhealthy amount of time. “I don’t think I can,” he finally admitted, burrowing further under the covers. There was something genuinely scared about it, like a cat skittering under a table. 

“That’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” Bucky sighed again - something so much more despondent this time - before he raised an eyebrow. He flipped onto his side and looked Steve in the eye. “How about you go? Finally meet the guys. Start making them call you Steve instead of Mr America.”

“They call me Mr America?”

“Nah, but they don’t call you Steve, that’s for sure. It’d be nice for you to get to know them better.”

“I know Wanda.”

“You trained Wanda.”

“I talked to her.”

“Sure you did, pal.”

Steve harrumphed but shuffled closer anyway, leaning against the headboard, one hand trailing near Bucky’s hair. “Do you really want me to?”

“They shouldn’t miss out on more sessions because of me. And they’ve already admitted to doing absolutely nothing without me there. Go put some discipline in them.”

“What’s your usual routine for Saturday now?”

“Talk then train. Switch it around if we’re in the mood.” Talking sounded pretty terrifying, Steve thought, already deliberating that he’d do the training first. At least he knew how the hell to do that.

Talking to teenagers?  _ Hell no _ . 

“You gonna be okay without me?”

“Never, but do this for me?”

“Of course.” Leaning down, Steve pressed a soft kiss to the crown of Bucky’s head. “Til the end of the line, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah, you too, pal.”

~*~

“Um, hey guys,” Steve said, creeping around the door, “I assume you saw the news.” More shit, more bad news, always bad news. The three teenagers stared at him, eyes a mix of resigned worry and frantic fear. 

“Is he okay?” Wanda asked, magic creeping around the edges of her fingers, like blood seeping from an open wound. Steve sighed, finally making his way into the room; his eyes were bloodshot and tired, offset by increasingly dark circles under his eyes. It was clear, then, that this was affecting Steve almost as bad as it was affecting Bucky. 

Steve had been fighting this case for months now and had gotten little to nowhere with it. His reputation was failing and the case even more so. Natasha had no more luck. And now, after giving Bucky even that speck of hope, it was on Steve to see the fallout, guilt gnawing away at his heart. Just another thing to add to the list of ways Steve had failed Bucky. 

“He’s not doing great.” Steve opened his mouth to speak again when a ping rang loudly throughout the room from all three phones at once. Bucky.

Well, Steve thought, at least he was doing well enough to message, even if it was too late. 

===

_ (Instagram DM) _ : BETTER TEAM THAN THE AVENGERS

_ 3 active now. _

_ Today: 12:32pm _

I’m really sorry guys. Steve’s coming in today though. Be nice to him

===

Steve could see the message from afar and huffed a laugh. Bucky could barely get himself into the shower and was still looking out for Steve. 

Now, time for the session. What was he supposed to do again? He looked around the room and held back a disappointed sigh. Seemed that these guys were all set up for so-called ‘talking’. Training would have to come later. 

“So,” Steve said, dragging out the ‘o’, whilst he took a seat, “what do you guys usually talk about?”

Wanda snorted, trying - and failing - to cover it with her hand. “Come on,” she said, “you can do better than that!”

“What?! I was going to do training. I was told to do training.” Steve examined the room again, taking it in and gleaning details: a true strategic mind, even if it was in an attempt to save him from the slowly descending awkwardness. Wanda was still sniggering, whilst Peter looked almost scared at the sight of him (a bit odd, seeing as they’d met before and he’d even teased Steve. Was one-on-one that terrifying?). MJ, on the other hand, seemed entirely disinterested. She was scribbling away in her notebook, the strokes calling something familiar up in Steve’s memory.

Oh, he thought suddenly, she was sketching.

He opened his mouth to ask what before his usual artist sensibilities came rushing back and he remembered just how much he hated being asked that question. Instead, he turned back to Wanda, his eyes continuously flicking to the furious scribbling, something akin to both deja vu and warmth filling his chest.

“You don’t need to train us. You’ve already taught me all your moves,” Wanda said, perhaps a little too arrogantly and a little too soon. Steve was underestimated far too often. Back in the 40s, he’d been held in impossibly high esteem, a super-soldier amongst men, undefeatable. Now, he was pretty much at the bottom of the list of enhancements human beings had achieved.  _ Hulk _ was indestructible.  _ Thor _ was undefeatable. Steve wasn’t even  _ close _ . People tended to think that meant he was easily defeated. But they forgot that humanity’s greatest advantage wasn’t their strength but their minds.

They didn’t win the evolution race because of strength, they won because they  _ outsmarted _ their competition. And Steve was pretty good at outsmarting people nowadays. And if not then, well, Steve had stubbornness on his side.

“Well, we’ll see soon, won’t we?” Steve taunted. “Still, any ideas until then, keeping in mind that I’m pretty sure I’m a crappy replacement for Bucky.”

“Not really,” Wanda sighed disappointedly, answering his first point (and definitely not his second). They all missed Bucky. Peter just shrugged. 

“You know, I went to art school,” Steve said, looking at MJ. “I can give some pretty good tips.” MJ broke from her reverie and looked up and although she looked mostly unimpressed, Steve could see she was interested. He was just like that at her age. Defiant to the point of pushing everyone (except Bucky) away and missing out on opportunities because no one wanted to give them to him anymore. He’d learnt, after the transformation, that a little charm could get you a long way. Really, he should have learnt that from Bucky all along.

“What’s your style?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Portraiture. Realism. Mostly, anyway.”

“Oh,” a pause, “me too.” They both smiled. A bond was already formed. Wanda and Peter were staring at each other, something unreadable and personal travelling between them, as Steve shifted his seat back. “Could I have a look at your work?” He asked. “Only if you want.”

“Yeah. That’s fine.” Shyly, Steve moved across the room and ended up swapping seats with Wanda, so she and Peter could gossip whilst Steve had a look at MJ’s notebook. 

The notebook was open in MJ’s lap, it’s pages hidden from view for anyone that wasn’t on her side, maybe only her, if she shifted to one side. She didn’t, letting Steve peer at the drawing and-

Peter’s face grinned up at him, detailed but scruffy. Much more a sketch than a true portrait but well-done nonetheless. 

Steve raised an eyebrow and shot MJ a pointed look, a smile teasing his lips. Bucky had already said enough but even so, Steve could easily make conclusions. MJ blushed and shifted to the next blank page. “You gonna teach me some things or what?”

Steve laughed then, his mouth shaping into a delighted smile. “I didn’t quite get why Bucky kept comparing us but I’m starting to see it.” MJ didn’t answer with words but her face said enough. “Okay, despite my public persona, I’m not…well, maybe I  _ was _ more so, I was…” Steve realised that what he was about to say was definitely a back-handed compliment and attempted to backtrack. “Not that I mean, no, oh god, does Bucky really make you do this talking thing every week?”

“Multiple times,” Wanda groaned, although she obviously didn’t mind.

“Well, just, you get my point?” He asked MJ.

She shook her head. “Not at all.”

“Oh, you can guess. I’m not saying it aloud.”

“Kinda want to hear you say it now,” MJ teased, getting out her phone and pointing the camera at Steve. With a smirk, “let’s hear Captain America insult a teenage girl.”

“So you do know what I meant! And that’s not fair!” Steve whined. “It wasn't an insult! It was…”

“You’re not helping yourself,” Wanda said. 

“Come on, Cap,” Peter finally joined in, albeit awkwardly (he had a lot more hero-worship in him than the rest of them), “say it.”

“ _ Fine _ . I was defensive and snarky too. Even mean, at points. And that’s going to sound bad out of context. I hate the future,” he harrumphed. 

MJ’s phone quickly moved away from Steve’s face as she smilingly tapped at the screen. “Okay, well, I’ve sent it to Bucky. No context!”

Steve’s eyes widened, panicked. “You didn’t! Oh god, he’ll never let this go. Not that I’ve  _ admitted _ it now. Can’t you send a message that I was an angel or something? Oh god.” Steve buried his face in his hands, listening to the other laugh whilst a blush travelled up his cheeks. “Now I’m starting to get why Bucky said to be nice.”

Peter grinned, slightly maniacally, and laughed. Wanda, on the other hand, just looked pleased with herself. MJ had finally finished up what she was doing and was shoving her notebook towards Steve. “Okay, Captain Snarky, show me some techniques.” 

Steve sighed. He wasn’t getting out of this one. “Fine. Anyone taught you how to do good shading?”

~*~

Finally,  _ finally! _ , they were in the gym. Steve was waiting for the rest of them to get changed, scanning the room and wondering where to start. He wasn’t all that sure of what Bucky’s approach was but he assumed it probably wasn’t the same drills that Steve ran with the new Avengers. That wouldn’t be fun at all. 

But Steve didn’t really know what else to do. 

So instead, he waited. It wasn’t long before the teenagers came scurrying out. Peter was in some sort of cross between his Spiderman outfit and his usual training gear, with his top being in darkened red, the usual Spiderman logo emblazoned on the front. MJ looked more relaxed, in a simple leggings and t-shirt combo, whilst Wanda had put on a red leather jacket over a similar all-black getup. It was jarringly dissimilar to what she wore in her sessions with Steve but he guessed that made sense.

“Hey, guys. You feel up for anything? I’m assuming you don’t want to run drills.” Wanda, as the only one who’d had to run drills, groaned dramatically, head thrown back like she was a toddler trying to mock their parents: exaggeration underlined by sincerity. 

“That’s a definite no. Suit up or spar, do what you feel is best. I’ll try and help wherever I can.”

Peter and Wanda were already conferring under their breath, making MJ stand out as she stood to one side. Her eyes were focused on the weapons box on the other side of the room. Steve swallowed nervously. He really didn’t want to arm teenagers, especially non-enhanced ones. The moral ambiguity of such a thing was enough to make his head hurt. 

“We can practice some defence moves,” Steve tried instead, in an attempt to draw her eyes away. 

“I think there’s something better,” she said, moving to the box. Steve panicked but followed, keeping his composure in the face of an uncertain situation. Opening the box, MJ took out a bag and unzipped it with cautious excitement, only to bring out-

“Did Tony repaint the shield?”

“No. This is mine,” MJ said, putting her arm through the straps. “And I want you to help me with it.” Her eyes blazed with familiar determination and yet again, Steve saw the painful resemblance between the two of them. At her age, Steve hadn’t been enhanced either but he’d wanted to fight, to help, to just do  _ something _ . MJ may have been calmer about it - and a lot more sensible - but he could see the same drive in her eyes. She could be a hero one day, if only presented the opportunity.

If Steve was honest, he really didn’t want to be the one to present that opportunity. 

This job was gritty and sick. It made you doubt why you joined in the first place and moulded you into someone you weren’t. It made great men good; it made good men questionable; and it made bad men evil. 

The serum had made him a better man, or so it was said. He wondered what would have happened to him if it hadn’t. 

“Who gave you that?”

“Tony Stark designed it. Bucky gave it to me. I can’t leave the Tower with it but I can train with it.”

“That’s-“

“Illegal? Almost definitely.”

“Morally questionable,” Steve added, frowning.

“But useful.”

“MJ,” Steve started but cut himself off with a sigh. This was the same girl he’d just taught to sketch. The girl that he had smiled at when she finally got it, brushing her finger gently over the page to create an even smudge. He taught her how to use a goddamn q-tip to smooth it out. This was the first person to use him for his artistic skills and not his superhero ones. It was nice, it was  _ great _ . And now there was a kinship there that he didn’t really want to break.

He was at a crossroads. Neither option was dire, nor was it great. Each had its own ups and downs, as most things did in life. Choices were rarely anything else. Nor was it a choice of great magnitude, yet it felt like it could be.

“Fine, I’ll help you, but no using it until you're 18, alright? Not outside of the gym, anyway.”

“Yes, sir,” she said with a crooked smile. Cocky, even. 

Steve smiled and walked up behind her, arms folded over his chest in a faint mimicry of his old drill sergeant. “Okay, feet out, distribute your weight evenly and bring the shield back. Yes, that’s right. No, shift your leg. Yes. Now,  _ throw _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve had so many suggestions so thank you for all of them! Just wanted to let everyone know that I’m actually working to put a lot of them in. This chapter doesn’t have so many but the next few chapters will so look out for them :D
> 
> Everything - suggestions, kudos, comments and subscriptions - are hugely appreciated!


	16. Bucky VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I did not have so many more ideas to put down, I think this would make the perfect end. But for now I think it's a great end for Bucky’s arc. Next up, we have an Asgardian guest making his way to the Tower!!! Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> [And an update, on time?? A miracle, really.]

“I’ve got to think about my legacy.”

“So do I. My whole life is comprised of the legacy I left behind, I understand its importance. But, unlike you, Mr President, I know my legacy will not be tarnished by supporting him in this.”

“I’m sorry, Captain, but I just can’t do this.”

-transcript of the conversation between Captain Steve Rogers and President Ellis on August 30th, 2015.

~*~

Spider-Man @theofficalspiderman

I’m officially backing the Winter Soldier’s case to get pardoned! Having interacted with him through the Avengers, I can say he is a truly amazing person. No one should judge him before they’ve met him; he is a good man. #pardonbuckybarnes

13k retweets // 26k likes

~*~

‘#’helpsokovia @TheScarletWitch

The Winter Soldier needs to be pardoned. I’m officially backing this case! #pardonbuckybarnes

11k retweets // 25k likes

~*~

Steve Rogers @caofficial

I can’t reiterate enough how important your involvement is with this case. Every single retweet and hashtag helps this case so much. Thank you to everyone who’s put themselves out there to support us! #pardonbuckybarnes

40k retweets // 100k likes

~*~

MJ @michellejones4492

Having looked into this case, I think this guy HAS to be innocent. #pardonbuckybarnes

8 retweets // 42 likes

~*~

Bucky woke on Saturday morning with a familiar heaviness on his chest. It wasn’t quite an anvil; it was like a hand held against his chest, growing stronger each time he tried to draw himself up. A distant anxiety begged him to burrow under the covers and hide from the world and the evil within it.

Instead, he dragged himself to his feet, did his best not to collapse and idled wearily into the kitchen. “Steve,” he whispered hoarsely, watching as the man jumped in fright, the skillet in his hand - the one with two eggs frying inside - leaping towards the ceiling, landing above them with a resounding slap. 

“Oops?” Bucky hedged, a less familiar smile tugging at his lips. 

“I didn’t think you were up,” Steve breathed, hand over his chest, before he leant back to examine the ceiling. He sighed. “That’s gonna be fun to clean.”

“Probably.” And before Bucky could think of anything else to say, he stumbled like a zombie into Steve’s chest, his arms clutching at him tightly.

“You alright, Buck?”

“I want to go back to bed.”

“And you aren’t because…?”

“I’ve let the kids down enough. You’re gonna throw me out of that door whether I want to or not.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Then we better get on with our morning.” Steve pried the eggs off the ceiling whilst Bucky plodded to the island counter and rested his head in his arms, pretending he was back in his bed, away from the world. It didn’t work; not with the sunlight barraging into the room; not with the empty space around him; not without the familiar weight of a blanket over his body.

“Coffee,” Steve announced, pushing the mug over to Bucky with a small swoosh. Bucky’s quick reflexes caught the mug and he threw it back, gulping down the scaling, sharp liquid down his throat before he had time to think about it.

It burnt, god it burnt, but it woke him up, that was for sure.

A few minutes later, Steve announced breakfast and steadfastly watched Bucky chew what you would think was cardboard if the expression on his face was anything to go by. He shovelled it down anyway and Steve congratulated him with a slap on the back and another coffee. 

“You really up for this?” Steve checked when Bucky was halfway to the door.

“Not at all.”

“Well, you did say push you.” Bucky frowned but before he could turn around, Steve leant in from behind and pressed a soft kiss to Bucky’s cheek before putting his hands on Bucky’s shoulders and roughly shoving him out of the open door. “Sorry!” He said and slammed the door in Bucky’s face.

Well, he did promise.

It took him half an hour longer than usual to get to the Tower. Normally, he’d be there first, arriving an hour before he was meant to just to settle in and have a few moments to himself. Today, their slow morning had pushed him back. He had to be grateful that he’d had a shower last night and didn’t particularly stink this morning because a shower was just not on the agenda, but even without it, he’d added half an hour onto his usual routine. On top of that, he knew he wouldn’t be able to take the subway. Not today. So instead, after sneaking past the usual reporters - although his efforts were becoming less and less paranoid as the media dribbled away between the massive news flashes - he decided to walk instead.

Brooklyn to Manhattan, because that wouldn’t take long at all.

===

 _(Instagram DM)_ : BETTER TEAM THAN THE AVENGERS

_1 active now._

_Today: 11:45am_

Bad day today but I’m coming in. Just a heads up, though, I will be late. Shifting the session to 1pm.

MJ: Wanda and I will leave later then

PP: I was early today :( Think I’ll go see Stark

Have fun, Pete. Sorry about this

PP: It’s no bother. Hope you’re feeling okay!

===

Bucky didn’t answer and his anxiety ratcheted up a notch. He felt like he was being watched, his phone like a constant connection to humanity. He was never _alone_. There was always something there, watching, waiting- 

He drew in a deep breath and moved faster, burrowing into his pocket for the earphones Steve had bought him a while back and that he’d never used. Plugging them in, he scrolled through his phone until he found a playlist of 30s/40s songs and put it on shuffle. The familiarity was welcome, as was the slow beat of the swing. It wasn’t perfect. Nostalgia was a dangerous road for him but it was enough to send his heart from frantic to fast and had him tapping away to the beat in the few moments where his mind wasn’t feverishly scoping his surroundings. 

He practically fled to the Tower, letting out a small breath when the automatic doors finally shut behind him. He wasn’t in the clear yet but it felt good to just know he had made it, that it was pointless to turn back. He just had to get through this.

He didn’t think he could. But he would. 

Skipping the ID check (although not JARVIS’), he made his way into the elevator and psyched himself up. Deep breaths, he reminded himself. Deep breaths and keep them steady. Fists clenched, no flinching, no shaking. Calm. He needed to find it, get rid of the tension, tension meant they knew, it meant that they-

The elevator doors opened and immediately, Bucky could see his team. They’d left the door open and had taken to sitting on the table, which should have looked relaxed if not for everything else. Wanda had taken to biting her nails which Bucky wished she wouldn’t do for her own sake but was powerless to stop it. Peter fidgeted, constantly shifting, the table groaning under his weight as he moved further away from its supports. MJ was still, but her eyes were wide and her eyebrows furrowed, her back hunched over as she stared at the ground. She could pretend to be calm if asked but still held the air of worry that the other two so stereotypically presented.

Bucky felt like shit for worrying them. He also felt shit because of everything else, but letting down his team was always his worst fear. He’d taken on responsibility with these kids and he wasn’t about to take that lightly. 

Trying to push down the urge to run, he walked into the conference room and feigned a smile; it flopped immediately. Peter was already on his feet, approaching with caution and Wanda had let go of whatever tension she’d been holding and now looked despondent, as if she’d thought something genuinely awful was going to happen to Bucky today. For a moment, Bucky worried about it before reminding himself that seeing the future wasn’t one of her powers…right? 

MJ stayed still but her eyes were now locked on him, unwavering and fearful, but Peter was the first to speak, reaching out a hand before snatching it back. “Are you okay?” He asked carefully. 

“Not really, Pete. I just didn’t want to miss another session with you guys.”

“You know there’s nothing stating you _have_ to come,” Wanda reminded softly.

“I know.” He sighed. “But you guys deserve the effort.”

They all smiled at him, although the atmosphere remained gentle, like they were too scared to spook him in case it sent him spiralling. They might have been right. 

“Where’s Steve?” MJ asked. The few times Bucky had made it in when he was feeling awful, Steve usually came along. And, well, Steve and MJ had found a little friendship in each other so it was no wonder she was keen to see him again. It was nice, Bucky thought, and it honestly felt great for Steve to become a small part of their team. 

It was like they’d all chosen their role models. Peter had Stark. Wanda had Bucky himself. (Although she would never admit it aloud, Bucky was _pretty_ sure he was beating Clint). And now MJ had Steve. It was still new, admittedly, but it was already growing strong.

“He’s at home. He’s got things to do.” He didn’t but honestly, Bucky didn’t want anyone babying him today. He just wanted to do it, get it done and-

No, that was wrong. That made these sessions seem like an effort. They weren’t. He just needed to reap what he could from today and be proud of what he’d accomplished by the end of it, knowing that he hadn’t needed to be hand-held through it.

“What happened?” Wanda asked, taking a seat around the table. MJ and Peter followed the suit, spread in a way that seemed purposeful, to make sure Bucky didn’t feel like they were an interview panel.

“Think that’s supposed to be what I say,” Bucky joked but it fell flat. They wanted to help him as much as he tried to help them; they weren’t letting him get away with dancing around the issue. Letting out a weary sigh, he ran a hand through his hair, annoyed when it caught in the knotted strands, catching on his scalp and tugging uncomfortably. He dropped his hands with a loud plunk and let out another loud breath. “I’m probably going to trial.”

“You don’t know that,” Peter protested, “the hashtag’s going wild. It’s everywhere.”

“Hashtags don’t stand up in court.” Bucky had lost all inflexion. He felt like he was reporting to a handler; it was easier when he was tired like this, he could just let go, do as he was told-

No, no. God no. Oh god. He snapped out of it, shaking his hand, surprised when his hair was matted enough that it didn’t even slap his face in the way that he hated but suffered through for the sake of not cutting it. Instead, it was almost sticky with grease, as if he’d just been on a long run. He must have looked wrecked...

“Ellis is refusing.”

“Can’t Steve turn him around?” MJ asked.

“A miracle would have to happen. Or Steve would have to do something really, really stupid.”

‘“Isn’t that his mandate?” MJ said, smirking. 

“Oh god. If he does something stupid, I hope he knows I’ll kill him,” Bucky groaned, slowly wiping his hands down his face as he tried to pick up the pieces of his fractured mind. He felt scattered and dissociative, clawing back to reality by the ends of his nails. 

“But if it could work…?” Peter said.

“No. Just…no. I’d rather go to trial.”

“Would he really do anything that bad?” Wanda asked.

“Of course he would. He’s Steve!” 

“Maybe you should let-“

“No. God no. And you guys better not get any stupid ideas either. Those tweets were dangerous enough.” (And he hadn’t even seen MJ’s). 

“You deserve our support.”

“Affiliation with the Winter Soldier isn’t worth it.” 

“Yes, it is,” Wanda and Peter chorused. That was enough to break the tension as they broke out into quiet giggles. “Jinx!” Peter suddenly called. 

Bucky frowned, confused, and Wanda seemed no better. “What’s…jinx?” She asked, her Sokovian accent suddenly coming on much thicker than before. It had slowly been going over the last few months. Bucky suspected Natasha was involved but neither woman would fess up to it. It was also possible that Wanda was actively trying to change it to avoid attention at school but that was both more depressing and bad for her cover. If she said she was Sokovian, it was best that she didn’t walk into their school sounding all-round American. (And she definitely, _definitely_ , needed to drop the few Brooklynite phrases she’d been spouting. No one needed to hear a teenage, Sokovian girl say ‘I’m behind the grind’. Which, in Bucky’s defence, he’d only said once, but was made much worse by the usual conundrum of words changing their meaning over the last few decades). 

Peter frantically tried to explain to Wanda what it meant whilst constantly telling her she had to be silent, which led to a lot of flailing, half-finished sentences and scowling, allowing some time for Bucky to pull himself together. He didn’t try to continue their previous line of thought, knowing it was useless. Instead, Bucky watched, the tellings of a smile playing on his face. He never quite found it but he was proud that he even got there. He knew if he gave in and let go, he’d start laughing, which would only lead inevitably to crying and then a fully fledged breakdown. He really didn’t want to have one of those in front of the team.

Instead, he let their brightness infect him; he watched them tease and insult and laugh and praise. He watched them be a _team_.

“Bucky?” He snapped out of his reverie, his head whipping around to Peter.

“What?”

“We asked if you were feeling better.”

Bucky let the thought sit for a moment. He wasn’t quite sure. Did he feel better? Maybe. Would it last? Probably not. Was his heart still beating out of his chest? Yes. But did the darkness feel further away? _Hell yes_.

“I’m doing okay. Thanks for just being here.”

“Thanks for coming.” His team smiled at him, so innocent and yet so _not,_ all at once. They were clinging onto their youth by their teeth but were grinning nonetheless. All Bucky could do in return was smile back.

~*~

“I won’t just step down, President. I’ll kill him. I’ll ruin his name. I’ll destroy the position that has been the symbol of this nation for the last 70 years.”

“You can’t just do that.”

“Captain America may be a symbol but no matter what, I am still the person behind that symbol. I have the power to bring the whole thing down. It wouldn’t even be hard.”

“You don’t want to do that.”

“But I will.”

“Well, you’ve given me a lot to think about, Captain.”

“I would hope so, _Ellis_.”

-transcript of the conversation between Captain Steve Rogers and President Ellis on September 15th, 2015.

~*~

“Mr President! What do you say about the claims that you have been embezzling government funds into your own pocket?”

“No comment.”

“Mr President! Mr President! It’s a simple question. Did you or did you not, alongside the Secretary of the Treasury, steal government money!”

“Mr President! Mr President! Mr President, if you could please comment-“

-transcript of the events taking place outside President Ellis’ car on the way to an event (yet to be identified) on September 20th, 2015.

~*~

“Do you have your answer?”

“I do.”

~*~

“Tonight, on September 30th, 2015, I, President Ellis, use the power of pardon to officially exonerate Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes - alias Winter Soldier - from all crimes committed from 1945 to 2014…”

-transcript from a public press conference on September 30th, 2015.

~*~

“I didn’t have to destroy Captain America,” Steve said, giggling like a schoolgirl, “he destroyed _himself_!”

“It’s a miracle,” Bucky breathed. “It’s an actual miracle.”

Steve started to laugh, hearty and full, hand slapping the table in complete incredulity. “He destroyed himself!” Steve repeated. “The guy was embezzling money the whole time!”

“You sound a little too happy about a President embezzling government funds.” But Bucky was smiling too.

He was free.

_He was free._

And all because a goddamn shitty President had a little sympathy for him and when the guy got stuck between a rock and a hard place, he went out on a limb and decided that he wanted to be remembered by more than just his shitty acts (and if he wasn’t, well, it wasn’t exactly making anything worse).

Not bad.

Not bad at all. 

~*~

Bucky Barnes, on a day to day basis, liked to keep to himself. That didn’t mean he was a loner, or that he never ventured outside his apartment. He wasn’t, really. He was just rather introverted after the 70-or-so years of torture. He was allowed that. Steve certainly thought so, but Steve also thought he deserved everything. He didn’t, but he’d let Steve think so, if only because arguing with him would be a lot more effort than it was worth.

But, when he made his way to Avenger’s Tower and up to the 95th floor, a Starbucks mocha in hand, Bucky remembered that being a loner didn’t mean he had no friends. 

“SURPRISE!”

Bucky blanched but didn’t move; to some extent, he’d been expecting this when he got a secretive summons from Steve to come into the Tower on a Friday night. So, he’d dressed to the nines in his new (replacement) fluffy jumper and a pair of tight-fitting, black jeans and gone for a quick stop at Starbucks on the way, just like he had on that very first day (the day it had all began really, when Peter had been a spluttering fifteen-year-old with just as much determination as stupidity).

Looking around the room, he was surprised to see just how many people had turned up. Tony and Pepper had come, despite their general animosity towards him (though, of course, he couldn’t put that on Pepper, he’d barely seen the woman), as had the rest of the Avengers, even the ones he barely knew. But more importantly than anything, Steve was there, right alongside his team. And they’d brought Ned along because, well…

Maybe they’d involve Ned a bit more soon but for Peter, it would probably be important to try and separate his two lives and Ned was a good - great - part of his other one. 

Bucky walked towards them, his eyes still taking in everything around him from the streamers and the large, white banner that read ‘YOU’RE FREE NOW!’. He wasn’t sure who’d ordered that but he liked it. The room was also filled with white and pastel balloons, which the Avengers had already taken to kicking around like children, giggling all the while.

“Hey, guys. I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess that it was you guys who set this up?”

“Well, it was mostly Steve,” Peter admitted, before quickly adding, “but we did all the decorations! And we definitely helped and-“

“It’s fine. Thank you for your effort,” Bucky quickly cut in, before Peter could dig himself any deeper. 

Bucky turned. “Thanks, pal,” he said to Steve and for the first time in public, pressed a soft kiss to Steve’s cheek, sending a rush of red to his face but an impish grin nonetheless. 

It was like the room sighed a collective ‘aw’, which no doubt put a similar blush on Bucky’s cheeks. All in all, it was worth it.

After that, the party was in full swing. Peter stared at the jumper for a bit too long before making fumbling apologies for an event that was long gone before Wanda cut in and started discussing what was next (and god, there was a lot that came next. So many ideas, things he’d wanted to try, everything!). MJ and Steve were in their own little world in the corner, with Steve’s sketchbook open on his lap as they discreetly flicked through the pages.

Bucky wondered for a moment if there was that one of him-

No, Steve wouldn’t do that.

An hour later, Steve finally got up, leaving MJ scribbling calmly in the corner, a glass of water (or what he hoped was water) beside her. He grabbed something from the counter and approached Bucky with a gentle smile. Bucky stared at him curiously as his eyes caught the bag, a glossy black with a golden trim that made it seem both sophisticated and tacky at the same time. “For you,” Steve said, holding it out to Bucky.

“You know you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

Bucky took the back and walked Steve to the sofas as he brought out the first wrapped present of two. It was the larger one, wrapped in thick paper that matched the bag, although it was slightly ruined by the copious amounts of sellotape. Steve had used to be so stingy, Bucky thought, and now he was overusing tape to compensate for his awful wrapping skills. How times had changed.

Prying open the edges, Bucky slowly slid out the present…another box? And then-

“You got me a laptop?”

“Apple. To match your phone and tablet.”

“You got me a laptop!” 

“You earned it.”

“I really didn’t do much.”

“You survived,” Steve said it with such sincerity, the type that practically bled into your soul, so much so that Bucky couldn’t help it when he flew into his arms, clutching him tightly. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

“Well, it was mostly for the next one. Open it.” Bucky flew back, taking out the second one and opening it without compunction, the wrapping paper lying in tatters on the floor, to reveal-

“You got me the Sims.”

“The newest one, apparently. There’s also the codes for some of the expansions in there. Apparently, they give you more stuff in the game. Honestly, I wasn’t really sure. It’s kinda confusing-“

“I love it.” Bucky paused, staring at it. “I love you.”

“I love you too, pal.”

Bucky could never be happier for the family he’d gained.

He was moving on, he was loved and most of all, he was finally - _finally_ \- free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has basically been a collaborative process between my brain and all your comments. I'd like to think of this as a group project and as of right now, I'm planning to do a credits page for all of you who's contributions have made a genuine difference to this story. I'm so grateful for every comment and I can't begin to express my astonishment at the popularity of this fic and just how many of you HAVE commented. 
> 
> Thank you to absolutely everyone! I hope you guys enjoy the sequel :D

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Twitter at @fouryearslater1 :)
> 
> Thank you all for reading!


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